JRobflampton 


RANDALL  PARRISH 


BOB   HAMPTON  OF   PLACER 


BY  MR.  PARRISH 
WHEN  WILDERNESS  WAS  KING.  A  Tale 
of  the  Illinois  Country.    Illustrated  by 
the  Kinneys. 

MY  LADY  OF  THE  NORTH.  The  Love 
Story  of  a  Gray  Jacket.  Illustrated  by 
E.  M.  Ashe. 

A  SWORD  OF  THE  OLD  FRONTIER.  A 
Romance  of  the  Time  of i  Pontiac  s 
Conspiracy.  Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

Each  $1.50 

HISTORIC  ILLINOIS.  The  Romance  of 
the  Earlier  Days.  With  Map  and 
Fifty  Illustrations. 

Price  $2.50  Net 

A.  C.  MCCLURG  &  Co.,  CHICAGO 


I  READ  IT  IN  YOUR  FACE,"  HE  INSISTED.      "Ir  TOLD 

OF  LOVE."  [PAGE  253] 


BOB  HAMPTON 
OF  PLACER 

By  RANDALL  PARRISH 


Author  of 

"WHEN  WILDERNESS  WAS  KING," 
"My  LADY  OF  THE  N^iy,"'   "  BETH  NORVELL,"   etc. 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  IN  COLORS 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  Publishers 
NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT 

A.  C.   MCCLURG   &  CO. 

1906 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 

All  rights  reserved 
Published,  September  22,  1906 


Second  Edition  October   I,  1906 
Third  Edition  October  15,  1906 
Fourth  Edition  November  I,  1906 
Fifth  Edition  November  15,  1906 
Sixth  Edition  December  I,  1906 
Seventh  Edition  January  5,  1907 
Eighth  Edition  January  9,  1907 


CONTENTS 

A-/ 


PART  I 

FROM  OUT  THE  CANYON 

CHAFTBR  PACK 

I     HAMPTON,  OF  PLACER  .         .         .         .         .  n 

II     OLD  GILLIS'S  GIRL 25 

III  BETWEEN  LIFE  AND  DEATH  ....  36 

IV  ON  THE  NAKED  PLAIN 49 

V     A  NEW  PROPOSITION     .....  59 

VI     "To  BE  OR  NOT  TO  BE"  74 

VII     "I'VE  COME  HERE  TO  LIVE"          ...  85 

VIII     A  LAST  REVOLT 94 

IX     AT  THE  OCCIDENTAL 102 

PART  II 
WHAT  OCCURRED  IN  GLENCAID 

I     THE  ARRIVAL  OF  Miss  SPENCER    .         .         .  115 

II     BECOMING  ACQUAINTED         ....  126 

III  UNDER  ORDERS     ......  138 

IV  SILENT  MURPHY    ......  149 

V  IN  HONOR  OF  Miss  SPENCER.         .         .         .  161 

VI  THE  LIEUTENANT  MEETS  Miss  SPENCER        .  174 
VII     AN  UNUSUAL  GIRL 184 

VIII     THE  REAPPEARANCE  OF  AN  OLD  FRIEND       .  195 

IX     THE  VERGE  OF  A  QUARREL  ....  205 

X     A  SLIGHT  INTERRUPTION       ....  217 

XI     THE  DOOR  OPENS,  AND  CLOSES  AGAIN  .         .  223 

M18520 


CONTENTS 

XII  THE  COHORTS  OF  JUDGE  LYNCH    .         .  .232 

XIII  "  SHE  LOVES  ME,  SHE  LOVES  ME  NOT  "  .       244 

XIV  PLUCKED  FROM  THE  BURNING        .         .  .       256 
XV  THE  DOOR  CLOSES         .                  .         .  .267 

XVI     THE  RESCUE  OF  Miss  SPENCER      ...       273 
XVII     THE  PARTING  HOUR     .         .         .         .         .       282 

PART  III 
ON  THE  LITTLE  BIG  HORN 

I  MR.  HAMPTON  RESOLVES       ....  293 

II  THE  TRAIL  OF  SILENT  MURPHY     .         .  301 

III  THE  HAUNTING  OF  A  CRIME  .         .         .         •  3°9 

IV  THE  VERGE  OF  CONFESSION  .         .         .  3*8 
V  ALONE  WITH  THE  INSANE      ....  32^ 

VI  ON  THE  LITTLE  BIG  HORN    .         .         .         .335 

VII  THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  VALLEY  .         .         .         .       347 

VIII     THE  OLD  REGIMENT 358 

IX  THE  LAST  STAND 367 

X  THE  CURTAIN  FALLS 375 


PART  I 
FROM  OUT  THE  CANYON 


BOB  HAMPTON  of  PLACER 


PART  I 
FROM  OUT  THE  CANYON 


CHAPTER; I  ..     :;:r  ::;,-:•..; 

HAMPTON,  OF  PLACER 

IT  WAS  not  an  uncommon  tragedy  of  the  West. 
If  slightest  chronicle  of  it  survive,  it  must  be 

discovered  among  the  musty  and  nearly  forgotten 
records  of  the  Eighteenth  Regiment  of  Infantry,  yet  it 
is  extremely  probable  that  even  there  the  details  were 
never  written  down.  Sufficient  if,  following  certain 
names  on  that  long  regimental  roll,  there  should  be 
duly  entered  those  cabalistic  symbols  signifying  to  the 
initiated,  "Killed  in  action."  After  all,  that  tells  the 
story.  In  those  old-time  Indian  days  of  continuous 
foray  and  skirmish  such  brief  returns,  concise  and 
unheroic,  were  commonplace  enough. 

Yet  the  tale  is  worth  telling  now,  when  such  days 
are  past  and  gone.  There  were  sixteen  of  them  when, 
like  so  many  hunted  rabbits,  they  were  first  securely 
trapped  among  the  frowning  rocks,  and  forced  relent 
lessly  backward  from  off  the  narrow  trail  until  the  pre 
cipitous  canyon  walls  finally  halted  their  disorganized 
flight,  and  from  sheer  necessity  compelled  a  rally  in 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

hopeless  battle.  Sixteen, —  ten  infantrymen  from  old 
Fort  Bethune,  under  command  of  Syd.  Wyman,  a 
gray-headed  sergeant  of  thirty  years'  continuous  ser 
vice  in  the  regulars,  two  cow-punchers  from  the 
<CXL"  ranch,  a  stranger  who  had  joined  them  unin 
vited  at  the  ford  over  the  Bear  Water,  together  with 
old  Gillis  the  post-trader,  and  his  silent  chit  of  a  girl. 

Sixteen — but  that  was  three  days  before,  and  in  the 
ineanwhile  not  a  few  of  those  speeding  Sioux  bullets 
had  found  softer  billet  than  the  limestone  rocks.  Six 
of*  the  soldiers,  four  already  dead,  two  dying,  lay  out 
stretched  in  ghastly  silence  where  they  fell.  "Red" 
Watt,  of  the  "XL,"  would  no  more  ride  the  range 
across  the  sun-kissed  prairie,  while  the  stern  old  ser 
geant,  still  grim  of  jaw  but  growing  dim  of  eye,  bore 
his  right  arm  in  a  rudely  improvised  sling  made  from 
a  cartridge-belt,  and  crept  about  sorely  racked  with 
pain,  dragging  a  shattered  limb  behind  him.  Then 
the  taciturn  Gillis  gave  sudden  utterance  to  a  sob 
bing  cry,  and  a  burst  of  red  spurted  across  his  white 
beard  as  he  reeled  backward,  knocking  the  girl  pros 
trate  when  he  fell.  Eight  remained,  one  helpless,  one 
a  mere  lass  of  fifteen.  It  was  the  morning  of  the 
third  day. 

The  beginning  of  the  affair  had  burst  upon  them  so 
suddenly  that  no  two  in  that  stricken  company  would 
have  told  the  same  tale.  None  among  them  had  an 
ticipated  trouble;  there  were  no  rumors  of  Indian  war 
along  the  border,  while  every  recognized  hostile  within 
the  territory  had  been  duly  reported  as  north  of  the 
Bear  Water;  not  the  vaguest  complaint  had  drifted 

[12] 


FROM      OUT     THE     CANYON 

into  military  headquarters  for  a  month  or  more.  In  all 
the  fancied  security  of  unquestioned  peace  these  chance 
travellers  had  slowly  toiled  along  the  steep  trail  leading 
toward  the  foothills,  beneath  the  hot  rays  of  the  after 
noon  sun,  their  thoughts  afar,  their  steps  lagging  and 
careless.  Gillis  and  the  girl,  as  well  as  the  two  cattle- 
herders,  were  on  horseback;  the  remainder  soberly 
trudged  forward  on  foot,  with  guns  slung  to  their 
shoulders.  Wyman  was  somewhat  in  advance,  walk 
ing  beside  the  stranger,  the  latter  a  man  of  uncertain  age, 
smoothly  shaven,  quietly  dressed  in  garments  bespeak 
ing  an  Eastern  tailor,  a  bit  grizzled  of  hair  along  the 
temples,  and  possessing  a  pair  of  cool  gray  eyes.  He 
had  introduced  himself  by  the  name  of  Hampton,  but 
had  volunteered  no  further  information,  nor  was  it  cus 
tomary  in  that  country  to  question  impertinently. 
The  others  of  the  little  party  straggled  along  as  best 
suited  themselves,  all  semblance  to  the  ordinary  dis 
cipline  of  the  service  having  been  abandoned. 

Hampton,  through  the  medium  of  easy  conversa 
tion,  early  discovered  in  the  sergeant  an  intelligent 
mind,  possessing  some  knowledge  of  literature.  They 
had  been  discussing  books  with  rare  enthusiasm,  and 
the  former  had  drawn  from  the  concealment  of  an 
inner  pocket  a  diminutive  copy  of  "The  Merchant  of 
Venice,"  from  which  he  was  reading  aloud  a  disputed 
passage,  when  the  faint  trail  they  followed  suddenly 
dipped  into  the  yawning  mouth  of  a  black  canyon.  It 
was  a  narrow,  gloomy,  contracted  gorge,  a  mere  gash 
between  those  towering  hills  shadowing  its' depths  on 
either  hand.  A  swift  mountain  stream,  noisy  and  clear 

['3] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

as  crystal,  dashed  from  rock  to  rock  close  beside  the 
more  northern  wall,  while  the  ill-defined  pathway, 
strewn  with  bowlders  and  guarded  by  underbrush, 
clung  to  the  opposite  side,  where  low  scrub  trees 
partially  obscured  the  view. 

All  was  silent  as  death  when  they  entered.  Not 
so  much  as  the  flap  of  a  wing  or  the  stir  of  a  leaf 
roused  suspicion,  yet  they  had  barely  advanced  a  short 
hundred  paces  when  those  apparently  bare  rocks  in 
front  flamed  red,  the  narrow  defile  echoed  to  wild 
screeches  and  became  instantly  crowded  with  weird, 
leaping  figures.  It  was  like  a  plunge  from  heaven 
into  hell.  Blaine  and  Endicott  sank  at  the  first  fire; 
Watt,  his  face  picturing  startled  surprise,  reeled  from 
his  saddle,  clutching  at  the  air,  his  horse  dashing  madly 
forward  and  dragging  him,  head  downward,  among 
the  sharp  rocks;  while  Wyman's  stricken  arm  dripped 
blood.  Indeed,  under  that  sudden  shock,  he  fell,  and 
was  barely  rescued  by  the  prompt  action  of  the  man 
beside  him.  Dropping  the  opened  book,  and  firing 
madly  to  left  and  right  with  a  revolver  which  appeared 
to  spring  into  his  hand  as  by  magic,  the  latter  coolly 
dragged  the  fainting  soldier  across  the  more  exposed 
space,  until  the  two  found  partial  security  among  a 
mass  of  loosened  rocks  littering  the  base  of  the  preci 
pice.  The  others  who  survived  that  first  scorching 
discharge  also  raced  toward  this  same  shelter,  impelled 
thereto  by  the  unerring  instinct  of  border  fighting,  and 
flinging  themselves  flat  behind  protecting  bowlders, 
began  responding  to  the  hot  fire  rained  upon  them. 

Scattered  and  hurried  as  these  first  volleys  were, 

C'4] 


FROM      OUT     THE      CANYON 

they  proved  sufficient  to  check  the  howling  demons 
in  the  open.  It  has  never  been  Indian  nature  to  face 
unprotected  the  aim  of  the  white  men,  and  those  dark 
figures,  which  only  a  moment  before  thronged  the 
narrow  gorge,  leaping  crazily  in  the  riot  of  apparent 
victory,  suddenly  melted  from  sight,  slinking  down 
into  leafy  coverts  beside  the  stream  or  into  holes  among 
the  rocks,  like  so  many  vanishing  prairie-dogs.  The 
fierce  yelpings  died  faintly  away  in  distant  echoes,  while 
the  hideous  roar  of  conflict  diminished  to  the  occa 
sional  sharp  crackling  of  single  rifles.  Now  and  then 
a  sinewy  brown  arm  might  incautiously  project  across 
the  gleaming  surface  of  a  rock,  or  a  mop  of  coarse 
black  hair  appear  above  the  edge  of  a  gully,  either  in 
cident  resulting  in  a  quick  interchange  of  fire.  That 
was  all;  yet  the  experienced  frontiersmen  knew  that 
eyes  as  keen  as  those  of  any  wild  animal  of  the  jun 
gle  were  watching  murderously  their  slightest  move 
ment. 

Wyman,  now  reclining  in  agony  against  the  base 
of  the  overhanging  clifT,  directed  the  movements  of  his 
little  command  calmly  and  with  sober  military  judg 
ment.  Little  by  little,  under  protection  of  the  rifles 
of  the  three  civilians,  the  uninjured  infantrymen  crept 
cautiously  about,  rolling  loosened  bowlders  forward 
into  position,  until  they  finally  succeeded  in  thus  erect 
ing  a  rude  barricade  between  them  and  the  enemy. 
The  wounded  who  could  be  reached  were  laboriously 
drawn  back  within  this  improvised  shelter,  and  when  the 
black  shadows  of  the  night  finally  shut  down,  all  re 
maining  alive  were  once  more  clustered  together,  the 

[15] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

injured  lying  moaning  and  ghastly  beneath  the  over 
hanging  shelf  of  rock,  and  the  girl,  who  possessed  all 
the  patient  stoicism  of  frontier  training,  resting  in 
silence,  her  widely  opened  eyes  on  those  far-off  stars 
peeping  above  the  brink  of  the  chasm,  her  head 
pillowed  on  old  Gillis's  knee. 

Few  details  of  those  long  hours  of  waiting  ever 
came  forth  from  that  black  canyon  of  death.  Many  of 
the  men  sorely  wounded,  all  wearied,  powder-stained, 
faint  with  hunger,  and  parched  with  thirst,  they  simply 
fought  out  to  the  bitter  ending  their  desperate  struggle 
against  despair.  The  towering,  overhanging  wall  at 
their  back  assured  protection  from  above,  but  upon  the 
opposite  cliff  summit,  and  easily  within  rifle  range,  the 
cunning  foe  early  discovered  lodgment,  and  from  that 
safe  vantage-point  poured  down  a  merciless  fire,  caus 
ing  each  man  to  crouch  lower  behind  his  protecting 
bowlder.  No  motion  could  be  ventured  without  its 
checking  bullet,  yet  hour  after  hour  the  besieged  held 
their  ground,  and  with  ever-ready  rifles  left  more  than 
one  reckless  brave  dead  among  the  rocks.  The 
longed-for  night  came  dark  and  early  at  the  bottom  of 
that  narrow  cleft,  while  hardly  so  much  as  a  faint  star 
twinkled  in  the  little  slit  of  sky  overhead.  The  cun 
ning  besiegers  crept  closer  through  the  enshrouding 
gloom,  and  taunted  their  entrapped  victims  with 
savage  cries  and  threats  of  coming  torture,  but  no 
warrior  among  them  proved  sufficiently  bold  to  rush 
in  and  slay.  Why  should  they  ?  Easier,  safer  far,  to 
rest  secure  behind  their  shelters,  and  wait  in  patience 
until  the  little  band  had  fired  its  last  shot.  Now  they 


FROM      OUT     THE     CANYON 

skulked  timorously,  but  then  they  might  walk  upright 
and  glut  their  fiendish  lust  for  blood. 

Twice  during  that  long  night  volunteers  sought 
vainly  to  pierce  those  lines  of  savage  watchers.  A 
long  wailing  cry  of  agony  from  out  the  thick  dark 
ness  told  the  fate  of  their  first  messenger,  while  Casey, 
of  the  "XL/*  crept  slowly,  painfully  back,  with 
an  Indian  bullet  embedded  deep  in  his  shoulder. 
Just  before  the  coming  of  dawn,  Hampton,  with 
out  uttering  a  word,  calmly  turned  up  the  collar  of  his 
tightly  buttoned  coat,  so  as  better  to  conceal  the  white 
collar  he  wore,  gripped  his  revolver  between  his  teeth, 
and  crept  like  some  wriggling  snake  among  the  black, 
rocks  and  through  the  dense  underbrush  in  search 
after  water.  By  some  miracle  of  divine  mercy  he  was 
permitted  to  pass  unscathed,  and  came  crawling  back,, 
a  dozen  hastily  filled  canteens  dangling  across  his 
shoulders.  It  was  like  nectar  to  those  parched,  fever 
ish  throats;  but  of  food  barely  a  mouthful  apiece/ 
remained  in  the  haversacks. 

The  second  day  dragged  onward,  its  hours  bringing 
no  change  for  the  better,  no  relief,  no  slightest  ray  of 
hope.  The  hot  sun  scorched  them  pitilessly,  and  two 
of  the  wounded  died  delirious.  From  dawn  to  dark 
there  came  no  slackening  of  the  savage  watchfulness 
which  held  the  survivors  helpless  behind  their  coverts. 
The  merest  uplifting  of  a  head,  the  slightest  move 
ment  of  a  hand,  was  sufficient  to  demonstrate  how 
sharp  were  those  savage  eyes.  No  white  man  in  the 
short  half-circle  dared  to  waste  a  single  shot  now ;  all 
realized  that  their  stock  of  ammunition  was  becoming 

[17] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

fearfully  scant,  yet  those  scheming  devils  continually 
baited  them  to  draw  their  fire. 

Another  long  black  night  followed,  during  which, 
for  an  hour  or  so  in  turn,  the  weary  defenders  slept, 
tossing  uneasily,  and  disturbed  by  fearful  dreams. 
Then  gray  and  solemn,  amid  the  lingering  shadows  of 
darkness,  dawned  the  third  dread  day  of  unequal  con 
flict.  All  understood  that  it  was  destined  to  be  their 
last  on  this  earth  unless  help  came.  It  seemed  utterly 
hopeless  to  protract  the  struggle,  yet  they  held  on 
grimly,  patiently,  half-delirious  from  hunger  and  thirst, 
gazing  into  each  other's  haggard  faces,  almost  without 
recognition,  every  man  at  his  post.  Then  it  was  that 
old  Gillis  received  his  death-wound,  and  the  solemn, 
fateful  whisper  ran  from  lip  to  lip  along  the  scattered 
line  that  only  five  cartridges  remained. 

For  two  days  Wyman  had  scarcely  stirred  from 
where  he  lay  bolstered  against  the  rock.  Sometimes 
he  became  delirious  from  fever,  uttering  incoherent 
phrases,  or  swearing  in  pitiful  weakness.  Again  he 
would  partially  arouse  to  his  old  sense  of  soldierly 
duty,  and  assume  intelligent  command.  Now  he 
twisted  painfully  about  upon  his  side,  and,  with 
clouded  eyes,  sought  to  discern  what  man  was  lying 
next  him.  The  face  was  hidden  so  that  all  he  could 
clearly  distinguish  was  the  fact  that  this  man  was  not 
clothed  as  a  soldier. 

"Is  that  you,  Hampton?"  he  questioned,  his 
voice  barely  audible. 

The  person  thus  addressed,  who  was  lying  flat 
upon  his  back,  gazing  silently  upward  at  the  rocky 

[i  8] 


FROM      OUT      THE     CANYONT 

front  of  the  cliff,  turned  cautiously  over  upon  his 
elbow  before  venturing  reply. 

"Yes;  what  is  it,  sergeant?  It  looks  to  he  a 
beauty  of  a  morning  way  up  yonder." 

There  was  a  hearty,  cheery  ring  to  his  clear  voice 
which  left  the  pain-racked  old  soldier  envious. 

"  My  God !  "  he  growled  savagely.  "'T  is  likely 
to  be  the  last  any  of  us  will  ever  sec.  Was  n't  it  you 
I  heard  whistling  just  now?  One  might  imagine  this 
was  to  be  a  wedding,  rather  than  a  funeral." 

"And  why  not,  Wyman  ?  Didn't  you  know 
they  employed  music  at  both  functions  nowadays  ? 
Besides,  it  is  not  every  man  who  is  permitted  to  assist 
at  his  own  obsequies  —  the  very  uniqueness  of  such  a 
situation  rather  appeals  to  my  sense  of  humor.  Pretty 
tune,  that  one  I  was  whistling,  don't  you  think  ? 
Picked  it  up  on  'The  Pike'  in  Cincinnati  fifteen 
years  ago.  Sorry  I  don't  recall  the  words,  or  I  'd  sing 
them  for  you." 

The  sergeant,  his  teeth  clinched  tightly  to  repress 
the  pain  racking  him,  stifled  his  resentment  with  an 
evident  effort.  "You  may  be  less  light-hearted  when 
you  learn  that  the  last  of  our  ammunition  is  already  in 
the  guns,"  he  remarked,  stiffly. 

"  I  suspected  as  much."  And  the  speaker  lifted 
himself  on  one  elbow  to  peer  down  the  line  of  recum 
bent  figures.  "To  be  perfectly  frank  with  you, 
sergeant,  the  stuff  has  held  out  considerably  longer 
than  I  believed  it  would,  judging  from  the  way  those 
f  dough  boys'  of  yours  kept  popping  at  every  shadow  in 
front  of  them.  It 's  a  marvel  to  me,  the  mutton-heads 

[19] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

they  take  into  the  army.  Oh,  now,  you  need  n't 
scowl  at  me  like  that,  Wyman ;  I  Ve  worn  the  blue, 
and  seen  some  service  where  a  fellow  needed  to  be  a 
man  to  sport  the  uniform.  Besides,  I  'm  not  indiffer 
ent,  old  chap,  and  just  so  long  as  there  remained  any 
work  worth  attending  to  in  this  skirmishing  affair,  I 
did  it,  did  n't  I  ?  But  I  tell  you,  man,  there  is 
mighty  little  good  trying  to  buck  against  Fate,  and 
when  Luck  once  finally  lets  go  of  a  victim,  he's  bound 
to  drop  straight  to  the  bottom  before  he  stops. 
That's  the  sum  and  substance  of  all  my  philosophy, 
old  fellow,  consequently  I  never  kick  simply  because 
things  happen  to  go  wrong.  What 's  the  use?  They  '11 
go  wrong  just  the  same.  Then  again,  my  life  has 
never  been  so  sweet  as  to  cause  any  excessive  grief 
over  the  prospect  of  losing  it.  Possibly  I  might  pre 
fer  to  pass  out  from  this  world  in  some  other  manner, 
but  that 's  merely  a  matter  of  individual  taste,  and  just 
now  there  does  n't  seem  to  be  very  much  choice  left 
me.  Consequently,  upheld  by  my  acquired  philoso 
phy,  and  encouraged  by  the  rectitude  of  my  past 
conduct,  I  'm  merely  holding  back  one  shot  for  my 
self,  as  a  sort  of  grand  finale  to  this  fandango,  and 
another  for  that  little  girl  out  yonder." 

These  words  were  uttered  slowly,  the  least  touch 
of  a  lazy  drawl  apparent  in  the  low  voice,  yet  there 
was  an  earnest  simplicity  pervading  the  speech  which 
somehow  gave  it  impressiveness.  The  man  meant 
exactly  what  he  said,  beyond  the  possibility  of  a 
doubt.  The  old  soldier,  accustomed  to  every  form 
of  border  eccentricity,  gazed  at  him  with  disapproval. 

[20] 


FROM     OUT     THE     CANYON 

"  Either  you  're  the  coolest  devil  I  Ve  met  during 
thirty  years  of  soldiering,'*  he  commented,  doubtfully, 
"or  else  the  craziest.     Who   are   you,  anyhow?     I 
half  believe  you  might  be  Bob  Hampton,  of  Placer." 
The  other  smiled  grimly.     "  You  have  the  name 
tolerably  correct,  old  fellow ;  likewise  that  delightful 
spot  so  lately  honored  by  my  residence.     In  brief, 
you  have  succeeded  in  calling  the  turn  perfectly,  so  far 
as  your  limited  information  extends.      In  strict  confi 
dence   I    propose   now  to   impart  to    you    what   has 
hitherto  remained  a  profound  secret.       Upon  special 
request  of  a  number  of  influential  citizens  of  Placer, 
including  the  city  marshal  and  other  officials,  expressed 
in  mass-meeting,  I  have  decided  upon  deserting  that 
sagebrush    metropolis    to    its  just   fate,    and  plan  to 
add  the  influence  of  my  presence  to  the  future  devel 
opment  of  Glencaid.     I  learn  that  the  climate  there  is 
more  salubrious,  more  conducive  to  long  living,  the 
citizens  of  Placer  being  peculiarly  excitable  and  care 
less  with  their  fire-arms." 

The  sergeant  had  been  listening  with  open  mouth. 
"  The  hell  you  say  !  "  he  finally  ejaculated. 

"The  undefiled  truth,  every  word  of  it.  No 
wonder  you  are  shocked.  A  fine  state  of  affairs,  is  n't 
it,  when  a  plain-spoken,  pleasant-mannered  gentleman, 
such  as  I  surely  am,  —  a  university  graduate,  by  all 
the  gods,  the  nephew  of  a  United  States  Senator,  and 
acknowledged  to  be  the  greatest  exponent  of  scientific 
poker  in  this  territory,  —  should  be  obliged  to  hastily 
change  his  chosen  place  of  abode  because  of  the 
threat  of  an  ignorant  and  depraved  mob.  Ever  have 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

a  rope  dangled  in  front  of  your  eyes,  sergeant,  and  a 
gun-barrel  biting  into  your  cheek  at  the  same  time? 
Accept  my  word  for  it,  the  experience  is  trying  on  the 
nerves.  Ran  a  perfectly  square  game  too,  and  those 
ducks  knew  it ;  but  there  's  no  true  sporting  spirit  left 
in  this  territory  any  more.  However,  spilled  milk  is 
never  worth  sobbing  over,  and  Fate  always  contrives 
to  play  the  final  hand  in  any  game,  and  stocks  the 
cards  to  win.  Quite  probably  you  are  familiar  with 
Bobbie  Burns,  sergeant,  and  will  recall  easily  these 
words,  'The  best-laid  schemes  o*  mice  and  men  gang 
aft  agley '  ?  Well,  instead  of  proceeding,  as  originally 
intended,  to  the  delightful  environs  of  Glencaid,  for  a 
sort  of  a  Summer  vacation,  I  have,  on  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  decided  upon  crossing  the  Styx.  Our 
somewhat  impulsive  red  friends  out  yonder  are  kindly 
preparing  to  assist  me  in  making  a  successful  passage, 
and  the  citizens  of  Glencaid,  when  they  learn  the 
sorrowful  news  of  my  translation,  ought  to  come 
nobly  forward  with  some  suitable  memorial  to  my  vir 
tues.  If,  by  any  miracle  of  chance,  you  should  pull 
through,  Wyman,  I  would  hold  it  a  friendly  act  if  you 
suggest  the  matter.  A  neat  monument,  for  instance, 
might  suitably  voice  their  grief;  it  would  cost  them 
far  less  than  I  should  in  the  flesh,  and  would  prove 
highly  gratifying  to  me,  as  well  as  those  mourners  left 
behind  in  Placer.'* 

"A  breath  of  good  honest  prayer  would  serve 
better  than  all  your  fun,"  groaned  the  sergeant, 
soberly. 

The  gray  eyes   resting   thoughtfully  on  the  old 


FROM      OUT     THE      CANYON 

soldier's    haggard    face    became    instantly    grave    and 
earnest. 

"  Sincerely  I  wish  I  might  aid  you  with  one,"  the 
man  admitted,  "but  I  fear,  old  fellow,  any  prayer 
coming  from  my  lips  would  never  ascend  very  far. 
However,  I  might  try  the  comfort  of  a  hymn,  and 
you  will  remember  this  one,  which,  no  doubt,  you 
have  helped  to  sing  back  in  God's  country." 

There  was  a  moment's  hushed  pause,  during 
which  a  rifle  cracked  sharply  out  in  the  ravine;  then 
the  reckless  fellow,  his  head  partially  supported 
against  the  protecting  bowlder,  lifted  up  a  full,  rich 
barytone  in  rendition  of  that  hymn  of  Christian 
faith — 

"Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee  ! 

Nearer  to  Thee  ! 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 

That  raiseth  me, 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee  ! 
Nearer  to  Thee.'* 

Glazed  and  wearied  eyes  glanced  cautiously  toward 
the  singer  around  the  edges  of  protecting  rocks ; 
fingers  loosened  their  grasp  upon  the  rifle  barrels ; 
smoke-begrimed  cheeks  became  moist;  while  lips,  a 
moment  before  profaned  by  oaths,  grew  silent  and 
trembling.  Out  in  front  a  revengeful  brave  sent  his 
bullet  swirling  just  above  the  singer's  head,  the  sharp 
fragments  of  rock  dislodged  falling  in  a  shower  upon 
his  upturned  face ;  but  the  fearless  rascal  sang  serenely 
on  to  the  end,  without  a  quaver. 

"  Mistake  it  for  a  death  song  likely,"  he  remarked 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

-dryly,  while  the  last  clear,  lingering  note,  reechoed  by 
the  cliff,  died  reluctantly  away  in  softened  cadence. 
*c  Beautiful  old  song,  sergeant,  and  I  trust  hearing  it 
again  has  done  you  good.  Sang  it  once  in  a  church 
way  back  in  New  England.  But  what  is  the  trouble? 
Did  you  call  me  for  some  special  reason  ? " 

"  Yes,"  came  the  almost  gruff  response ;  for 
Wyman,  the  fever  stealing  back  upon  him,  felt  half 
ashamed  of  his  unshed  tears.  "That  is,  provided  you 
retain  sufficient  sense  to  listen.  Old  Gillis  was  shot 
over  an  hour  ago,  yonder  behind  that  big  bowlder,  and 
his  girl  sits  there  still  holding  his  head  in  her  lap. 
She'll  get  hit  also  unless  somebody  pulls  her  out  of 
there,  and  she's  doing  no  good  to  Gillis  —  he's  dead." 

Hampton's  clear-cut,  expressive  face  became 
graver,  all  trace  of  recklessness  gone  from  it.  He 
lifted  his  head  cautiously,  peering  over  his  rock  cover 
toward  where  he  remembered  earlier  in  the  fight  Gillis 
had  sought  refuge. 


CHAPTER  II 

OLD   GILLIS'S   GIRL 

EXCEPTING  for  a  vague  knowledge  that  Gillis 
had  had  a  girl  with  him,  together  with  the 
half-formed  determination  that  if  worse  came 
to  worst  she  must  never  be  permitted  to  fall  alive  into 
the  hands  of  the  lustful  Sioux,  Mr.  Hampton  had 
scarcely  so  much  as  noted  her  presence.  Of  late  years 
he  had  not  felt  greatly  interested  in  the  sex,  and  his 
inclination,  since  uniting  his  shattered  fortunes  with 
this  little  company,  had  been  to  avoid  coming  into 
personal  contact  with  this  particular  specimen.  Prac 
tically,  therefore,  he  now  observed  her  for  the  first 
time.  Previously  she  had  passed  within  range  of  his 
vision  simply  as  the  merest  shadow;  now  she  began 
to  appeal  faintly  to  him  as  a  personality,  uninteresting 
enough,  of  course,  yet  a  living  human  being,  whom 
it  had  oddly  become  his  manifest  duty  to  succor  and 
protect.  The  never  wholly  eradicated  instincts  of  one 
born  and  bred  a  gentleman,  although  heavily  overlaid 
by  the  habits  acquired  in  many  a  rough  year  passed 
along  the  border,  brought  vividly  before  him  the 
requirements  of  the  situation.  Undoubtedly  death 
was  destined  to  be  the  early  portion  of  them  all ; 
nevertheless  she  deserved  every  opportunity  for 
life  that  remained,  and  with  the  ending  of  hope  — 
well,  there  are  worse  fates  upon  the  frontier  than  the 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

unexpected  plunge  of  a  bullet  through  a  benumbed 
brain. 

Guided  by  the  unerring  instinct  of  an  old  Indian 
fighter,  Gillis,  during  that  first  mad  retreat,  had  dis 
covered  temporary  shelter  behind  one  of  the  largest 
bowlders.  It  was  a  trifle  in  advance  of  those  later 
rolled  into  position  by  the  soldiers,  but  was  of  a  size 
and  shape  which  should  have  afforded  ample  protec 
tion  for  two,  and  doubtless  would  have  done  so  had  it 
not  been  for  the  firing  from  the  cliff  opposite.  Even 
then  it  was  a  deflected  bullet,  glancing  from  off  the 
polished  surface  of  the  rock,  which  found  lodgment  in 
the  sturdy  old  fighter's  brain.  The  girl  had  caught 
him  as  he  fell,  had  wasted  all  her  treasured  store  of 
water  in  a  vain  effort  to  cleanse  the  blood  from  his 
features,  and  now  sat  there,  pillowing  his  head  upon 
her  knee,  although  the  old  man  was  stone  dead  with 
the  first  touch  of  the  ball.  That  had  occurred  fully 
an  hour  before,  but  she  continued  in  the  same  posture, 
a  grave,  pathetic  figure,  her  face  sobered  and  careworn 
beyond  her  years,  her  eyes  dry  and  staring,  one  brown 
hand  grasping  unconsciously  the  old  man's  useless 
rifle.  She  would  scarcely  have  been  esteemed  attract 
ive  even  under  much  happier  circumstances  and 
assisted  by  dress,  yet  there  was  something  in  the 
independent  poise  of  her  head,  the  steady  fixedness  of 
her  posture,  which  served  to  interest  Hampton  as  he 
now  watched  her  curiously. 

"  Fighting  blood,"  he  muttered  admiringly  to  him 
self.  "  Might  fail  to  develop  into  very  much  of  a 
society  belle,  but  likely  to  prove  valuable  out  here." 


OLD      GILLIS'S      GIRL 

She  was  rather  a  slender  slip  of  a  thing,  a  trifle 
too  tall  for  her  years,  perhaps,  yet  with  no  lack  of 
development  apparent  in  the  slim,  rounded  fig 
ure.  Her  coarse  home-made  dress  of  dark  calico 
fitted  her  sadly,  while  her  rumpled  hair,  from 
which  the  broad-brimmed  hat  had  fallen,  possessed 
a  reddish  copper  tinge  where  it  was  touched  by 
the  sun.  Mr.  Hampton's  survey  did  not  in 
crease  his  desire  for  more  intimate  acquaintance 
ship,  yet  he  recognized  anew  her  undoubted  claim 
upon  him. 

"  Suppose  I  might  just  as  well  drop  out  that  way 
as  any  other,"  he  reflected,  thoughtfully.  "  It's  all  in 
the  game." 

Lying  flat  upon  his  stomach,  both  arms  extended, 
he  slowly  forced  himself  beyond  his  bowlder  into  the 
open.  There  was  no  great  distance  to  be  traversed, 
and  a  considerable  portion  of  the  way  was  somewhat 
protected  by  low  bushes.  Hampton  took  few  chances 
of  those  spying  eyes  above,  never  uplifting  his  head 
the  smallest  fraction  of  an  inch,  but  reaching  forward 
with  blindly  groping  hands,  caught  hold  upon  any 
projecting  root  or  stone  which  enabled  him  to  drag 
his  body  an  inch  farther.  Twice  they  fired  directly 
down  at  him  from  the  opposite  summit,  and  once  a 
fleck  of  sharp  rock,  chipped  by  a  glancing  bullet, 
embedded  itself  in  his  cheek,  dyeing  the  whole  side  of 
his  face  crimson.  But  not  once  did  he  pause  or 
glance  aside ;  nor  did  the  girl  look  up  from  the 
imploring  face  of  her  dead.  As  he  crept  silently  in, 
sheltering  himself  next  to  the  body  of  the  dead  man, 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

she  perceived  his  presence  for  the  first  time,  and 
shrank  back  as  if  in  dread. 

"What  are  you  doing?  Why  —  why  did  you  come 
here  ? "  she  questioned,  a  falter  in  her  voice ;  and  he 
noticed  that  her  eyes  were  dark  and  large,  yielding  a 
marked  impress  of  beauty  to  her  face. 

"  I  was  unwilling  to  leave  you  here  alone,"  he 
answered,  quietly,  c<  and  hope  to  discover  some  means 
for  getting  you  safely  back  beside  the  others." 

cc  But  I  did  n't  want  you,"  and  there  was  a  look  of 
positive  dislike  in  her  widely  opened  eyes. 

"  Did  n't  want  me  ?  "  He  echoed  these  unexpected 
words  in  a  tone  of  complete  surprise.  "  Surely  you 
could  not  desire  to  be  left  here  alone  ?  Why  did  n't 
you  want  me  ?  " 

"  Because  I  know  who  you  are !  "  Her  voice 
seemed  to  catch  in  her  throat.  "He  told  me.  You're 
the  man  who  shot  Jim  Eberly." 

Mr.  Hampton  was  never  of  a  pronounced  emo 
tional  nature,  nor  was  he  a  person  easily  disconcerted, 
yet  he  flushed  at  the  sound  of  these  impulsive  words, 
and  the  confident  smile  deserted  his  lips.  For  a  mo 
ment  they  sat  thus,  the  dead  body  lying  between, 
and  looked  at  each  other.  When  the  man  finally 
broke  the  constrained  silence  a  deeper  intonation  had 
crept  into  his  voice. 

"  My  girl,"  he  said  gravely,  and  not  without  a 
suspicion  of  pleading, tc  this  is  no  place  for  me  to  attempt 
any  defence  of  a  shooting  affray  in  a  gambling-house, 
although  I  might  plead  with  some  justice  that  Eberly 
enjoyed  the  honor  of  shooting  first.  I  was  not  aware 


OLD      GILLIS'S      GIRL 

of  your  personal  feeling  in  the  matter,  or  I  might  have 
permitted  some  one  else  to  come  here  in  my  stead. 
Now  it  is  too  late.  I  have  never  spoken  to  you  be 
fore,  and  do  so  at  this  time  merely  from  a  sincere 
desire  to  be  of  some  assistance." 

There  was  that  in  his  manner  of  grave  courtesy 
which  served  to  steady  the  girl.  Probably  never 
before  in  all  her  rough  frontier  experience  had  she 
been  addressed  thus  formally.  Her  closely  com 
pressed  lips  twitched  nervously,  but  her  questioning 
eyes  remained  unlowered. 

"You  may  stay,"  she  asserted,  soberly.  "Only 
don't  touch  me." 

No  one  could  ever  realize  how  much  those  words 
hurt  him.  He  had  been  disciplined  in  far  too  severe 
a  school  ever  to  permit  his  face  to  index  the  feelings 
of  his  heart,  yet  the  unconcealed  shrinking  of  this  un 
couth  child  from  slightest  personal  contact  with  him 
cut  through  his  acquired  reserve  as  perhaps  nothing 
else  could  ever  have  done.  Not  until  he  had  com 
pletely  conquered  his  first  unwise  impulse  to  retort 
angrily,  did  he  venture  again  to  speak. 

"  I  hope  to  aid  you  in  getting  back  beside  the 
others,  where  you  will  be  less  exposed." 

"Will  you  take  him?" 

"He  is  dead,"  Hampton  said,  soberly,  "and  I  can 
do  nothing  to  aid  him.  But  there  remains  a  chance 
for  you  to  escape." 

"Then  I  won't  go,"  she  declared,  positively. 

Hampton's  gray  eyes  looked  for  a  long  moment 
fixedly  into  her  darker  ones,  while  the  two  took 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

mental  stock  of  each  other.  He  realized  the  utter 
futility  of  any  further  argument,  while  she  felt 
instinctively  the  cool,  dominating  strength  of  the 
man.  Neither  was  composed  of  that  poor  fibre  which 
bends. 

<c  Very  well,  my  young  lady,"  he  said,  easily,  stretch 
ing  himself  out  more  comfortably  in  the  rock  shadow. 
rcThen  I  will  remain  here  with  you;  it  makes  small 
odds." 

Excepting  for  one  hasty,  puzzled  glance,  she  did 
not  deign  to  look  again  toward  him,  and  the  man 
rested  motionless  upon  his  back,  staring  up  at  the  sky. 
Finally,  curiosity  overmastered  the  actor  in  him,  and 
he  turned  partially  upon  one  side,  so  as  to  bring  her 
profile  within  his  range  of  vision.  The  untamed,  re- 
bellious  nature  of  the  girl  had  touched  a  responsive 
chord;  unseeking  any  such  result  she  had  directly 
appealed  to  his  better  judgment,  and  enabled  him  to 
perceive  her  from  an  entirely  fresh  view-point.  Her 
clearly  expressed  disdain,  her  sturdy  independence 
both  of  word  and  action,  coupled  with  her  frankly 
voiced  dislike,  awoke  within  him  an  earnest  desire 
to  stand  higher  in  her  regard.  Her  dark,  glow 
ing  eyes  were  lowered  upon  the  white  face  of  the 
dead  man,  yet  Hampton  noted  how  clear,  in  spite 
of  sun-tan,  were  those  tints  of  health  upon  the 
rounded  cheek,  and  how  soft  and  glossy  shone  her 
wealth  of  rumpled  hair.  Even  the  tinge  of  color, 
so  distasteful  in  the  full  glare  of  the  sun,  appeared 
to  have  darkened  under  the  shadow,  its  shade 
framing  the  downcast  face  into  a  pensive  fairness. 

[30] 


OLD      GILLIS'S     GIRL 

Then   he  observed  how  dry  and   parched    her   lips 
were. 

"  Take  a  drink  of  this,"  he  insisted  heartily,  hold 
ing  out  toward  her  as  he  spoke  his  partially  filled 
canteen. 

She  started  at  the  unexpected  sound  of  his  voice, 
yet  uplifted  the  welcome  water  to  her  mouth,  while 
Hampton,  observing  it  all  closely,  could  but  remark 
the  delicate  shapeliness  of  her  hand. 

"If  that  old  fellow  was  her  father,"  he  reflected 
soberly,  "I  should  like  to  have  seen  her  mother." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  simply,  handing  back  the 
canteen,  but  without  lifting  her  eyes  again  to  his  face. 
"  I  was  so  thirsty."  Her  low  tone,  endeavoring  to  be 
polite  enough,  contained  no  note  of  encouragement. 

"Was  Gillis  your  father?"  the  man  questioned, 
determined  to  make  her  recognize  his  presence. 

"  I  suppose  so ;  I  don't  know." 

"You  don't  know?  Am  I  to  understand  you  are 
actually  uncertain  whether  this  man  was  your  father 
or  not?" 

"  That  is  about  what  I  said,  was  n't  it  ?  Not  that  it 
is  any  of  your  business,  so  far  as  I  know,  Mr.  Bob 
Hampton,  but  I  answered  you  all  right.  He  brought 
me  up,  and  I  called  him  'dad'  about  as  far  back  as  I 
can  remember,  but  I  don't  reckon  as  he  ever  told  me 
he  was  my  father.  So  you  can  understand  just  what 
you  please." 

"His  name  was  Gillis,  was  n't  it?" 

The  girl  nodded  wearily. 

"  Post-trader  at  Fort  Bethune?" 

[3'] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Again  the  rumpled  head  silently  acquiesced. 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"He  always  called  me  'kid/"  she  admitted  un 
willingly,  "but  I  reckon  if  you  have  any  further 
occasion  for  addressing  me,  you'd  better  say,  c  Miss 
Gillis.'  " 

Hampton  laughed  lightly,  his  reckless  humor  in 
stantly  restored  by  her  perverse  manner. 

"  Heaven  preserve  me ! "  he  exclaimed  good  na- 
turedly,  "  but  you  are  certainly  laying  it  on  thick,  young 
lady !  However,  I  believe  we  might  become  good 
friends  if  we  ever  have  sufficient  luck  to  get  out  from 
this  hole  alive.  Darn  if  I  don't  sort  of  cotton  to  you, 
little  girl  —  you've  got  some  sand." 

For  a  brief  space  her  truthful,  angry  eyes  rested 
scornfully  upon  his  face,  her  lips  parted  as  though  trem 
bling  with  a  sharp  retort.  Then  she  deliberately 
turned  her  back  upon  him  without  uttering  a  word. 

For  what  may  have  been  the  first  and  only  occa 
sion  in  Mr.  Hampton's  audacious  career,  he  realized 
his  utter  helplessness.  This  mere  slip  of  a  red 
headed  girl,  this  little  nameless  waif  of  the  frontier, 
condemned  him  so  completely,  and  without  waste  of 
words,  as  to  leave  him  weaponless.  Not  that  he  greatly 
cared;  oh,  no!  still,  it  was  an  entirely  new  experience; 
the  arrow  went  deeper  than  he  would  have  willingly 
admitted.  Men  of  middle  age,  gray  hairs  already 
commencing  to  shade  their  temples,  are  not  apt  to 
enjoy  being  openly  despised  by  young  women,  not 
even  by  ordinary  freckle-faced  girls,  clad  in  coarse 
short  frocks.  Yet  he  could  think  of  no  fitting  retort 


OLD      GILLIS'S      GIRL 

worth  the  speaking,  and  consequently  he  simply  lay 
back,  seeking  to  treat  this  disagreeable  creature  with 
that  silent  contempt  which  is  the  last  resort  of  the 
vanquished. 

He  was  little  inclined  to  admit,  even  to  himself, 
that  he  had  been  fairly  hit,  yet  the  truth  remained 
that  this  girl  was  beginning  to  interest  him  oddly. 
He  admired  her  sturdy  independence,  her  audacity  of 
speech,  her  unqualified  frankness.  Mr.  Hampton 
was  a  thoroughgoing  sport,  and  no  quality  was  quite 
so  apt  to  appeal  to  him  as  dead  gameness.  He 
glanced  surreptitiously  aside  at  her  once  more,  but 
there  was  no  sign  of  relenting  in  the  averted  face.  He 
rested  lower  against  the  rock,  his  face  upturned  toward 
the  sky,  and  thought.  He  was  becoming  vaguely 
aware  that  something  entirely  new,  and  rather  unwel 
come,  had  crept  into  his  life  during  that  last  fateful 
half-hour.  It  could  not  be  analyzed,  nor  even  ex 
pressed  definitely  in  words,  but  he  comprehended  this 
much — he  would  really  enjoy  rescuing  this  girl,  and  he 
should  like  to  live  long  enough  to  discover  into  what 
sort  of  woman  she  would  develop. 

It  was  no  spirit  of  bravado  that  gave  rise  to  his 
reckless  speech  of  an  hour  previous.  It  was  simply  a 
spontaneous  outpouring  of  his  real  nature,  an  unpre 
meditated  expression  of  that  supreme  carelessness  with 
which  he  regarded  the  future,  the  small  value  he  set  on 
life.  He  truly  felt  as  utterly  indifferent  toward  fate 
as  his  words  signified.  Deeply  conscious  of  a  life 
long  ago  irretrievably  wrecked,  everything  behind  a 
chaos,  everything  before  worthless, — for  years  he  had 

[33] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

been  actually  seeking  death;  a  hundred  times  he  had 
gladly  marked  its  apparent  approach,  a  smile  of  wel 
come  upon  his  lips.  Yet  it  had  never  quite  succeeded 
in  reaching  him,  and  nothing  had  been  gained  beyond 
a  reputation  for  cool,  reckless  daring,  which  he  did 
not  in  the  least  covet.  But  now,  miracle  of  all 
miracles,  just  as  the  end  seemed  actually  attained, 
seemed  beyond  any  possibility  of  being  turned  aside, 
he  began  to  experience  a  desire  to  live  —  he  wanted  to 
save  this  girl. 

His  keenly  observant  eyes,  trained  by  the  exigen 
cies  of  his  trade  to  take  note  of  small  things,  and 
rendered  eager  by  this  newly  awakened  ambition, 
scanned  the  cliff  towering  above  them.  He  perceived 
the  extreme  irregularity  of  its  front,  and  numerous 
peculiarities  of  formation  which  had  escaped  him 
hitherto.  Suddenly  his  puzzled  face  brightened  to  the 
birth  of  an  idea.  By  heavens !  it  might  be  done ! 
Surely  it  might  be  done !  Inch  by  inch  he  traced  the 
obscure  passage,  seeking  to  impress  each  faint  detail 
upon  his  memory — that  narrow  ledge  within  easy 
reach  of  an  upstretched  arm,  the  sharp  outcropping  of 
rock-edges  here  and  there,  the  deep  gash  as  though 
some  giant  axe  had  cleaved  the  stone,  those  sturdy 
cedars  growing  straight  out  over  the  chasm  like  the 
bowsprits  of  ships,  while  all  along  the  way,  irregular 
and  ragged,  varied  rifts  not  entirely  unlike  the  steps 
of  a  crazy  staircase. 

The  very  conception  of  such  an  exploit  caused  his 
flesh  to  creep.  But  he  was  not  of  that  class  of  men 
who  fall  back  dazed  before  the  face  of  danger.  Again 

[34] 


OLD      G  I  L  L  I  S'S      GIRL 

and  again,  led  by  an  impulse  he  was  unable  to  resist, 
he  studied  that  precipitous  rock,  every  nerve  tingling 
to  the  newborn  hope.  God  helping  them,  even  so 
desperate  a  deed  might  be  accomplished,  although  it 
would  test  the  foot  and  nerve  of  a  Swiss  mountaineer. 
He  glanced  again  uneasily  toward  his  companion,  and 
saw  the  same  motionless  figure,  the  same  sober  face 
turned  deliberately  away.  Hampton  did  not  smile, 
but  his  square  jaw  set,  and  he  clinched  his  hands. 
He  had  no  fear  that  she  might  fail  him,  but  for  the 
first  time  in  all  his  life  he  questioned  his  own  courage. 


fed 


CHAPTER  III 

BETWEEN    LIFE   AND    DEATH 

THE  remainder  of  that  day,  as  well  as  much  of 
the  gloomy  night  following,  composed  a  silent, 
lingering  horror.  The  fierce  pangs  of  hunger 
no  longer  gnawed,  but  a  dull  apathy  now  held  the 
helpless  defenders.  One  of  the  wounded  died,  a  mere 
lad,  sobbing  pitifully  for  his  mother;  an  infantry 
man,  peering  forth  from  his  covert,  had  been  shot 
in  the  face,  and  his  scream  echoed  among  the  rocks 
in  multiplied  accents  of  agony ;  while  Wyman  lay 
tossing  and  moaning,  mercifully  unconscious.  The 
others  rested  in  their  places,  scarcely  venturing  to  stir 
a  limb,  their  roving,  wolfish  eyes  the  only  visible 
evidence  of  remaining  life,  every  hope  vanished, 
yet  each  man  clinging  to  his  assigned  post  of  duty 
in  desperation.  There  was  but  little  firing — the 
defenders  nursing  their  slender  stock,  the  sav 
ages  biding  their  time.  When  night  shut  down 
the  latter  became  bolder,  and  taunted  cruelly  those 
destined  to  become  so  soon  their  hapless  victims. 
Twice  the  maddened  men  fired  recklessly  at  those 
dancing  devils,  and  one  pitched  forward,  emitting 
a  howl  of  pain  that  caused  his  comrades  to  cower 
once  again  behind  their  covers.  One  and  all  these 
frontiersmen  recognized  the  inevitable — before  dawn 
the  end  must  come.  No  useless  words  were 

[36] 


BETWEEN      LIFE      AND      DEATH 

spoken;    the   men   merely    clinched    their   teeth    and 
waited. 

Hampton  crept  closer  in  beside  the  girl  while  the 
shadows  deepened,  and  ventured  to  touch  her  hand. 
Perhaps  the  severe  strain  of  their  situation,  the  intense 
loneliness  of  that  Indian-haunted  twilight,  had  some 
what  softened  her  resentment,  for  she  made  no  effort 
now  to  repulse  him. 

"Kid,"  he  said  at  last,  "are  you  game  for  a  try  at 
getting  out  of  this  ?  " 

She  appeared  to  hesitate  over  her  answer,  and  he 
could  feel  her  tumultuous  breathing.  Some  portion 
of  her  aversion  had  vanished.  His  face  was  certainly 
not  an  unpleasant  one  to  look  upon,  and  there  were 
others  of  her  sex  who  had  discovered  in  it  a  covering 
for  a  multitude  of  sins.  Hampton  smiled  slightly  while 
he  waited;  he  possessed  some  knowledge  of  the  nature 
feminine. 

"Come,  Kid,"  he  ventured  finally,  yet  with  new 
assurance  vibrating  in  his  low  voice ;  "  this  is  surely  a 
poor  time  and  place  for  any  indulgence  in  tantrums, 
and  you  Ve  got  more  sense.  I  'm  going  to  try  to 
climb  up  the  face  of  that  cliff  yonder, —  it's  the  only 
possible  way  out  from  here,  —  and  I  propose  to  take 
you  along  with  me." 

She  snatched  her  hand  roughly  away,  yet  remained 
facing  him.  "  Who  gave  you  any  right  to  decide 
what  I  should  do  ?  " 

The  man  clasped  his  fingers  tightly  about  her 
slender  arm,  advancing  his  face  until  he  could  look 
squarely  into  hers.  She  read  in  the  lines  of  that 

[37] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

determined  countenance  an  inflexible  resolve  which 
overmastered  her. 

"The  right  given  by  Almighty  God  to  protect 
any  one  of  your  sex  in  peril,"  he  replied.  "  Before 
dawn  those  savage  fiends  will  be  upon  us.  We  are 
utterly  helpless.  There  remains  only  one  possible 
path  for  escape,  and  I  believe  I  have  discovered  it. 
Now,  my  girl,  you  either  climb  those  rocks  with  me, 
or  I  shall  kill  you  where  you  are.  It  is  that,  or  the 
Sioux  torture.  I  have  two  shots  left  in  this  gun, — 
one  for  you,  the  other  for  myself.  The  time  has 
come  for  deciding  which  of  these  alternatives  you 
prefer/' 

The  gleam  of  a  star  glittered  along  the  steel  of 
his  revolver,  and  she  realized  that  he  meant  what  he 
threatened. 

"  If  I  select  your  bullet  rather  than  the  rocks, 
what  then  ? " 

"You  will  get  it,  but  in  that  case  you  will  die 
like  a  fool." 

"  You  have  believed  me  to  be  one,  all  this  after 


noon." 


"  Possibly,"  he  admitted ;  "your  words  and  actions 
certainly  justified  some  such  conclusion,  but  the 
opportunity  has  arrived  for  causing  me  to  revise  that 
suspicion." 

"  I  don't  care  to  have  you  revise  it,  Mr.  Bob 
Hampton.  If  I  go,  I  shall  hate  you  just  the 
same." 

Hampton's  teeth  clicked  like  those  of  an  angry 
dog.  "  Hate  and  be  damned,"  he  exclaimed  roughly. 

[38] 


BETWEEN      LIFE      AND      DEATH 

"All  I   care  about   now  is   to  drag  you  out  of  here 
alive." 

His  unaffected  sincerity  impressed  her  more  than 
any  amount  of  pleading.  She  was  long  accustomed 
to  straight  talk;  it  always  meant  business,  and  her 
untutored  nature  instantly  responded  with  a  throb  of 
confidence. 

"Well,  if  you  put  it  that  way,"  she  said,  "I  '11  go." 

For  one  breathless  moment  neither  stirred.  Then 
a  single  wild  yell  rang  sharply  forth  from  the  rocks 
in  their  front,  and  a  rifle  barked  savagely,  its  red 
flame  cleaving  the  darkness  with  tongue  of  fire. 
An  instant  and  the  impenetrable  gloom  again  sur 
rounded  them. 

"  Come  on,  then,  he  whispered,  his  fingers  grasp 
ing  her  sleeve. 

She  shook  off*  the  restraining  touch  of  his  hand  as 
if  it  were  contamination,  and  sank  down  upon  her 
knees  beside  the  inert  body.  He  could  barely  per 
ceive  the  dim  outlines  of  her  bowed  figure,  yet  never 
moved,  his  breath  perceptibly  quickening,  while  he 
watched  and  waited.  Without  word  or  moan  she 
bent  yet  lower,  and  pressed  her  lips  upon  the  cold, 
white  face.  The  man  caught  no  more  than  the 
faintest  echo  of  a  murmured  "  Good-bye,  old  dad ;  I 
wish  I  could  take  you  with  me."  Then  she  stood 
stiffly  upright,  facing  him.  "I'm  ready  now,"  she 
announced  calmly.  "You  can  go  on  ahead." 

They  crept  among  low  shrubs  and  around  the 
bowlders,  carefully  guarding  every  slightest  movement 
lest  some  rustle  of  disturbed  foliage,  or  sound  of 

[39] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

loosened  stone,  might  draw  the  fire  of  those  keen 
watchers.  Nor  dared  they  ignore  the  close  proximity 
of  their  own  little  company,  who,  amid  such  darkness, 
might  naturally  suspect  them  for  approaching  savages. 
Every  inch  of  their  progress  was  attained  through 
tedious  groping,  yet  the  distance  to  be  traversed  was 
short,  and  Hampton  soon  found  himself  pressing 
against  the  uprising  precipice.  Passing  his  fingers 
along  the  front,  he  finally  found  that  narrow  ledge 
which  he  had  previously  located  with  such  patient 
care,  and  reaching  back,  drew  the  girl  silently  upon 
her  feet  beside  him.  Against  that  background  of  dark 
cliff  they  might  venture  to  stand  erect,  the  faint 
glimmer  of  reflected  light  barely  sufficient  to  reveal 
to  each  the  shadowy  outline  of  the  other. 

"  Don't  move  an  inch  from  this  spot,"  he  whis 
pered.  "It  wouldn't  be  a  square  deal,  Kid,  to 
leave  those  poor  fellows  to  their  death  without  even 
telling  them  there's  a  chance  to  get  out." 

She  attempted  no  reply,  as  he  glided  noiselessly 
away,  but  her  face,  could  he  have  seen  it,  was  not 
devoid  of  expression.  This  was  an  act  of  generosity 
and  deliberate  courage  of  the  very  kind  most  apt  to 
appeal  to  her  nature,  and  within  her  secret  heart  there 
was  rapidly  developing  a  respect  for  this  man,  who 
with  such  calm  assurance  won  his  own  way.  He  was 
strong,  forceful,  brave, — Homeric  virtues  of  real 
worth  in  that  hard  life  which  she  knew  best.  All 
this  swept  across  her  mind  in  a  flash  of  revelation 
while  she  stood  alone,  her  eyes  endeavoring  vainly  to 
peer  into  the  gloom.  Then,  suddenly,  that  black 


BETWEEN      LIFE      AND      DEATH 

curtain  was  rent  by  jagged  spurts  of  red  and  yellow 
flame.  Dazed  for  an  instant,  her  heart  throb 
bing  wildly  to  the  sharp  reports  of  the  rifles,  she 
shrank  cowering  back,  her  fascinated  gaze  fixed  on 
those  imp-like  figures  leaping  forward  from  rock 
to  rock.  Almost  with  the  flash  and  sound  Hamp 
ton  sprang  hastily  b?ck  and  gathered  her  in  his 
arms. 

4 'Catch  hold,  Kid,  anywhere;  only  go  up,  and 
quick ! " 

As  he  thus  lifted  her  she  felt  the  irregularities  of 
rock  beneath  her  clutching  fingers,  and  scrambled 
instinctively  forward  along  the  narrow  shelf,  and 
then,  reaching  higher,  her  groping  hands  clasped  the 
roots  of  a  projecting  cedar.  She  retained  no  longer 
any  memory  for  Hampton ;  her  brain  was  completely 
terrorized.  Inch  by  inch,  foot  by  foot,  clinging  to  a 
fragment  of  rock  here,  grasping  a  slippery  branch 
there,  occasionally  helped  by  encountering  a  deeper 
gash  in  the  face  of  the  precipice,  her  movements  con 
cealed  by  the  scattered  cedars,  she  toiled  feverishly 
up,  led  by  instinct,  like  any  wild  animal  desperately 
driven  by  fear,  and  only  partially  conscious  of  the 
real  dread  of  her  terrible  position.  The  first  time  she 
became  aware  that  Hampton  was  closely  following 
was  when  her  feet  slipped  along  a  naked  root,  and  she 
would  have  plunged  headlong  into  unknown  depths 
had  she  not  come  into  sudden  contact  with  his 
supporting  shoulder.  Faint  and  dizzy,  and  trembling 
like  the  leaf  of  an  aspen,  she  crept  forward  onto  a 
somewhat  wider  ledge  of  thin  rock,  and  lay  there 

[4'] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

quivering  painfully  from  head  to  foot.  A  moment  of 
suspense,  and  he  was  outstretched  beside  her,  resting 
at  full  length  along  the  very  outer  edge,  his  hand 
closing  tightly  over  her  own. 

"  Remain  perfectly  quiet,"  he  whispered,  panting 
heavily.  <(  We  can  be  no  safer  anywhere  else." 

She  could  distinguish  the  rapid  pounding  of  his 
heart  as  well  as  her  own,  mingled  with  the  sharp 
intake  of  their  heavy  breathing,  but  these  sounds  were 
soon  overcome  by  that  of  the  tumult  below.  Shots 
and  yells,  the  dull  crash  of  blows,  the  shouts  of  men 
engaged  in  a  death  grapple,  the  sharp  crackling  of 
innumerable  rifles,  the  inarticulate  moans  of  pain,  the 
piercing  scream  of  sudden  torture,  were  borne  upward 
to  them  from  out  the  blackness.  They  did  not 
venture  to  lift  their  heads  from  off  the  hard  rock ;  the 
girl  sobbed  silently,  her  slender  form  trembling; 
the  fingers  of  the  man  closed  more  tightly  about  her 
hand.  All  at  once  the  hideous  uproar  ceased  with  a 
final  yelping  of  triumph,  seemingly  reechoed  the 
entire  length  of  the  chasm,  in  the  midst  of  which  one 
single  voice  pleaded  pitifully, —  only  to  die  away  in  a 
shriek.  The  two  agonized  fugitives  lay  listening,  their 
ears  strained  to  catch  the  slightest  sound  from  below. 
The  faint  radiance  of  a  single  star  glimmered  along 
the  bald  front  of  the  cliff,  but  Hampton,  peering  cau 
tiously  across  the  edge,  could  distinguish  nothing. 
His  ears  could  discern  evidences  of  movement,  and  he 
heard  guttural  voices  calling  at  a  distance,  but  to  the 
vision  all  was  black.  The  distance  those  faint  sounds 
appeared  away  made  his  head  reel,  and  he  shrank 

[421 


BETWEEN      LIFE      AND      DEATH 

cowering  back  against  the  girl's  body,  closing  his  eyes 
and  sinking  his  head  upon  his  arm. 

These  uncertain  sounds  ceased,  the  strained  ears 
of  the  fugitives  heard  the  crashing  of  bodies  through 
the  thick  shrubbery,  and  then  even  this  noise  died 
away  in  the  distance.  Yet  neither  ventured  to  stir  or 
speak.  It  may  be  that  the  girl  slept  fitfully,  worn  out 
by  long  vigil  and  intense  strain  ;  but  the  man  proved 
less  fortunate,  his  eyes  staring  out  continually  into  the 
black  void,  his  thoughts  upon  other  days  long  van 
ished  but  now  brought  back  in  all  their  bitterness  by 
the  mere  proximity  of  this  helpless  waif  who  had 
fallen  into  his  care.  His  features  were  drawn  and 
haggard  when  the  first  gray  dawn  found  ghastly  reflec 
tion  along  the  opposite  rock  summit,  and  with  blurred 
eyes  he  watched  the  faint  tinge  of  returning  light  steal 
downward  into  the  canyon.  At  last  it  swept  aside 
those  lower  clinging  mists,  as  though  some  invisible 
hand  had  drawn  back  the  night  curtains,  and  he  peered 
over  the  edge  of  his  narrow  resting-place,  gazing 
directly  down  upon  the  scene  of  massacre.  With 
a  quick  gasp  of  unspeakable  horror  he  shrank  so 
sharply  back  as  to  cause  the  suddenly  awakened  girl 
to  start  and  glance  into  his  face. 

"What  is  it?"  she  questioned,  with  quick  catch 
ing  of  breath,  reading  that  which  she  could  not  clearly 
interpret  in  his  shocked  expression. 

"  Nothing  of  consequence,"  and  he  faintly  en 
deavored  to  smile.  "  I  suppose  I  must  have  been 
dreaming  also,  and  most  unpleasantly.  No;  please  do 
not  look  down;  it  would  only  cause  your  head  to 

[43] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

reel,  and  our  upward  climb  is  not  yet  completed. 
Do  you  feel  strong  enough  now  to  make  another 
attempt  to  reach  the  top  ?  " 

His  quiet  spirit  of  assured  dominance  seemed  to 
command  her  obedience.  With  a  slight  shudder  she 
glanced  doubtfully  up  the  seemingly  inaccessible  height. 

cc  Can  we  ?  "  she  questioned  helplessly. 

"  We  can,  simply  because  we  must,'*  and  his  white 
teeth  shut  together  firmly.  "  There  is  no  possibility 
of  retracing  our  steps  downward,  but  with  the  help  of 
this  daylight  we  surely  ought  to  be  able  to  discover 
some  path  leading  up." 

He  rose  cautiously  to  his  feet,  pressing  her  more 
closely  against  the  face  of  the  cliff,  thus  holding  her 
in  comparative  safety  while  preventing  her  from  glanc 
ing  back  into  the  dizzy  chasm.  The  most  difficult 
portion  of  their  journey  was  apparently  just  before 
them,  consisting  of  a  series  of  narrow  ledges,  so  wide 
ly  separated  and  irregular  as  to  require  each  to  assist 
the  other  while  passing  from  point  to  point.  Beyond 
these  a  slender  cleft,  bordered  by  gnarled  roots  of  low 
bushes,  promised  a  somewhat  easier  and  securer  pas 
sage  toward  the  summit.  Hampton's  face  became 
deathly  white  as  they  began  the  perilous  climb,  but 
his  hand  remained  steady,  his  foot  sure,  while  the  girl 
moved  forward  as  if  remaining  unconscious  of  the 
presence  of  danger,  apparently  swayed  by  his  dom 
inant  will  to  do  whatsoever  he  bade  her.  More  than 
once  they  tottered  on  the  very  brink,  held  to  safety 
merely  by  desperate  clutchings  at  rock  or  shrub,  yet 
never  once  did  the  man  loosen  his  guarding  grasp  of 

[44] 


BETWEEN      LIFE      AND      DEATH 

his  companion.  Pressed  tightly  against  the  smooth 
rock,  feeling  for  every  crevice,  every  slightest  irregu 
larity  of  surface,  making  use  of  creeping  tendril  or 
dead  branch,  daring  death  along  every  inch  of  the 
way,  these  two  creepers  at  last  attained  the  opening 
to  the  little  gulley,  and  sank  down,  faint  and  trem 
bling,  their  hands  bleeding,  their  clothing  sadly  torn  by 
the  sharp  ledges  across  which  they  had  pulled  their 
bodies  by  the  sheer  strength  of  extended  arms. 
Hampton  panted  heavily  from  exertion,  yet  the  old 
light  of  cool,  resourceful  daring  had  crept  back  into 
the  gray  eyes,  while  the  stern  lines  about  his  lips 
assumed  pleasanter  curves.  The  girl  glanced  furtively 
at  him,  the  long  lashes  shadowing  the  expression  of 
her  lowered  eyes.  In  spite  of  deep  prejudice  she  felt 
impelled  to  like  this  man ;  he  accomplished  things, 
and  he  didn't  talk. 

It  was  nothing  more  serious  than  a  hard  and  toil 
some  climb  after  that,  a  continuous  struggle  testing 
every  muscle,  straining  every  sinew,  causing  both  to 
sink  down  again  and  again,  panting  and  exhausted,  no 
longer  stimulated  by  imminent  peril.  The  narrow 
cleft  they  followed  led  somewhat  away  from  the  ex 
posed  front  of  the  precipice,  yet  arose  steep  and  jagged 
before  them,  a  slender  gash  through  the  solid  rock,  up 
which  they  were  often  compelled  to  force  their  pas 
sage  ;  again  it  became  clogged  with  masses  of  debris, 
dead  branches,  and  dislodged  fragments  of  stone, 
across  which  they  were  obliged  to  struggle  desperately, 
while  once  they  completely  halted  before  a  sheer 
smoothness  of  rock  wall  that  appeared  impassable. 

[45] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

It  was  bridged  finally  by  a  cedar  trunk,  which  Hamp 
ton  wrenched  from  out  its  rocky  foothold,  and  the 
two  crept  cautiously  forward,  to  emerge  where  the 
sunlight  rested  golden  at  the  summit.  They  sank 
face  downward  in  the  short  grass,  barely  conscious 
that  they  had  finally  won  their  desperate  passage. 

Slowly  Hampton  succeeded  in  uplifting  his  tired 
body  and  his  reeling  head,  until  he  could  sit  partially 
upright  and  gaze  unsteadily  about.  The  girl  yet 
remained  motionless  at  his  feet,  her  thick  hair,  a  mass 
of  red  gold  in  the  sunshine,  completely  concealing  her 
face,  her  slender  figure  quivering  to  sobs  of  utter 
exhaustion.  Before  them  stretched  the  barren  plain, 
brown,  desolate,  drear,  offering  in  all  its  wide  expanse 
no  hopeful  promise  of  rescue,  no  slightest  suggestion 
even  of  water,  excepting  a  fringe  of  irregular  trees, 
barely  discernible  against  the  horizon.  That  lorn, 
deserted  waste,  shimmering  beneath  the  sun-rays,  the 
heat  waves  already  becoming  manifest  above  the  rock- 
strewn  surface,  presented  a  most  depressing  spectacle. 
With  hand  partially  shading  his  aching  eyes  from  the 
blinding  glare,  the  man  studied  its  every  exposed 
feature,  his  face  hardening  again  into  lines  of  stern 
determination.  The  girl  stirred  from  her  position, 
flinging  back  her  heavy  hair  with  one  hand,  and  look 
ing  up  into  his  face  with  eyes  that  read  at  once  his 
disappointment. 

"  Have  —  have  you  any  water  left?"  she  asked  at 
last,  her  lips  parched  and  burning  as  if  from  fever. 

He  shook  the  canteen  dangling  forgotten  at  his  side. 
"  There  may  be  a  few  drops,"  he  said,  handing  it 

[46] 


BETWEEN      LIFE      AND      DEATH 

to  her,  although  scarcely  removing  his  fixed  gaze  from 
off  that  dreary  plain.  "  We  shall  be  obliged  to 
make  those  trees  yonder;  there  ought  to  be  water 
there  in  plenty,  and  possibly  we  may  strike  a  trail." 

She  staggered  to  her  feet,  gripping  his  shoulder, 
and  swaying  a  little  from  weakness,  then,  holding 
aside  her  hair,  gazed  long  in  the  direction  he  pointed. 

"  I  fairly  shake  from  hunger,"  she  exclaimed, 
almost  angrily,  "  and  am  terribly  tired  and  sore,  but  I 
reckon  I  can  make  it  if  I  Ve  got  to." 

There  was  nothing  more  said  between  them. 
Like  two  automatons,  they  started  off  across  the 
parched  grass,  the  heat  waves  rising  and  falling  as 
they  stumbled  forward.  Neither  realized  until  then 
how  thoroughly  that  hard  climb  up  the  rocks,  the 
strain  of  continued  peril,  and  the  long  abstinence  from 
food  had  sapped  their  strength,  yet  to  remain  where 
they  were  meant  certain  death  ;  all  hope  found  its 
centre  amid  those  distant  beckoning  trees.  Mechani 
cally  the  girl  gathered  back  her  straying  tresses,  and 
tied  them  with  a  rag  torn  from  her  frayed  skirt. 
Hampton  noted  silently  how  heavy  and  sunken  her 
eyes  were;  he  felt  a  dull  pity,  yet  could  not  suffi 
ciently  arouse  himself  from  the  lethargy  of  exhaustion 
to  speak.  His  body  seemed  a  leaden  weight,  his 
brain  a  dull,  inert  mass;  nothing  was  left  him  but  an 
unreasoning  purpose,  the  iron  will  to  press  on  across 
that  desolate  plain,  which  already  reeled  and  writhed 
before  his  aching  eyes. 

No  one  can  explain  later  how  such  deeds  are  ever 
accomplished ;  how  the  tortured  soul  controls  physical 

[47] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

weakness,  and  compels  strained  sinews  to  perform  the 
miracle  of  action  when  all  ambition  has  died.  Hamp 
ton  surely  must  have  both  seen  and  known,  for  he 
kept  his  direction,  yet  never  afterwards  did  he  regain 
any  clear  memory  of  it.  Twice  she  fell  heavily,  and 
the  last  time  she  lay  motionless,  her  face  pressed  against 
the  short  grass  blades.  He  stood  looking  down  upon 
her,  his  head  reeling  beneath  the  hot  rays  of  the  sun, 
barely  conscious  of  what  had  occurred,  yet  never 
becoming  totally  dead  to  his  duty.  Painfully  he 
stooped,  lifted  the  limp,  slender  figure  against  his 
shoulder,  and  went  straggling  forward,  as  uncertain  in 
steps  as  a  blind  man,  all  about  him  stretching  the 
dull,  dead  desolation  of  the  plain.  Again  and  again 
he  sank  down,  pillowing  his  eyes  from  the  pitiless 
sun  glare;  only  to  stagger  upright  once  more,  ever 
bending  lower  and  lower  beneath  his  unconscious 
burden. 


CHAPTER  IV 
ON  THE  NAKED  PLAIN 

IT  was  two  hundred  and  eighteen  miles,  as  the  crow 
flies,  between  old  Fort  Bethune  and  the  rock  ford 

crossing  the  Bear  Water,  every  foot  of  that  dreary, 
treeless  distance  Indian-haunted,  the  favorite  skulk- 
ing-place  and  hunting-ground  of  the  restless  Sioux. 
Winter  and  summer  this  wide  expanse  had  to  be 
suspiciously  patrolled  by  numerous  military  scouting 
parties,  anxious  to  learn  more  regarding  the  uncertain 
whereabouts  of  wandering  bands  and  the  purposes 
of  malecontents,  or  else  drawn  hither  and  thither  by 
continually  shifting  rumors  of  hostile  raids  upon  the 
camps  of  cattlemen.  All  this  involved  rough,  diffi 
cult  service,  with  small  meed  of  honor  attached,  while 
never  had  soldiers  before  found  trickier  foemen  to 
contend  against,  or  fighters  more  worthy  of  their  steel. 

One  such  company,  composed  of  a  dozen  mounted 
infantrymen,  accompanied  by  three  Cree  trailers,  rode 
slowly  and  wearily  across  the  brown  exposed  uplands 
down  into  the  longer,  greener  grass  of  the  wide  valley 
bottom,  until  they  emerged  upon  a  barely  perceptible 
trail  which  wound  away  in  snake-like  twistings,  toward 
those  high,  barren  hills  whose  blue  masses  were  darkly 
silhouetted  against  the  western  sky.  Upon  every  side 
of  them  extended  the  treeless  wilderness,  the  desolate 
loneliness  of  bare,  brown  prairie,  undulating  just 

[49] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

enough  to  be  baffling  to  the  eyes,  yet  so  dull,  barren, 
grim,  silent,  and  colorless  as  to  drive  men  mad.  The 
shimmering  heat  rose  and  fell  in  great  pulsating  waves, 
although  no  slightest  breeze  came  to  stir  the  stagnant 
air,  while  thick  clouds  of  white  dust,  impregnated  with 
poisonous  alkali,  rose  from  out  the  grass  roots,  stirred 
by  the  horses'  feet,  to  powder  the  passers-by  from  head 
to  foot.  The  animals  moved  steadily  forward,  reluc 
tant  and  weary,  their  heads  drooping  dejectedly,  their 
distended  nostils  red  and  quivering,  the  oily  perspira 
tion  streaking  their  dusted  sides.  The  tired  men, 
half  blinded  by  the  glare,  lolled  heavily  in  their  deep 
cavalry  saddles,  with  encrusted  eyes  staring  moodily 
ahead. 

Riding  alone,  and  slightly  in  advance  of  the  main 
body,  his  mount  a  rangy,  broad-chested  roan,  streaked 
with  alkali  dust,  the  drooping  head  telling  plainly  of 
wearied  muscles,  was  the  officer  in  command.  He 
was  a  pleasant-faced,  stalwart  young  fellow,  with  the 
trim  figure  of  a  trained  athlete,  possessing  a  square 
chin  smoothly  shaven,  his  intelligent  blue  eyes  half 
concealed  beneath  his  hat  brim,  which  had  been  drawn 
low  to  shade  them  from  the  glare,  one  hand  pressing 
upon  his  saddle  holster  as  he  leaned  over  to  rest. 
No  insignia  of  rank  served  to  distinguish  him  from 
those  equally  dusty  fellows  plodding  gloomily  behind, 
but  a  broad  stripe  of  yellow  running  down  the  seams 
of  his  trousers,  together  with  his  high  boots,  bespoke 
the  cavalry  service,  while  the  front  of  his  battered 
campaign  hat  bore  the  decorations  of  two  crossed 
sabres,  with  a  gilded  cc  7  "  prominent  between.  His 

[50] 


ON      THE      NAKED      PLAIN 

attire  was  completed  by  a  coarse  blue  shirt,  unbut 
toned  at  the  throat,  about  which  had  been  loosely 
knotted  a  darker  colored  silk  handkerchief,  and  across 
the  back  of  the  saddle  was  fastened  a  uniform  jacket, 
the  single  shoulder-strap  revealed  presenting  the 
plain  yellow  of  a  second  lieutenant. 

Attaining  to  the  summit  of  a  slight  knoll,  whence 
a  somewhat  wider  vista  lay  outspread,  he  partially 
turned  his  face  toward  the  men  straggling  along  in  the 
rear,  while  his  hand  swept  across  the  dreary  scene. 

"If  that  line  of  trees  over  yonder  indicates  the 
course  of  the  Bear  Water,  Carson,"  he  questioned  quiet 
ly,  "where  are  we  expected  to  hit  the  trail  leading 
down  to  the  ford?" 

The  sergeant,  thus  addressed,  a  little  stocky  fellow 
wearing  a  closely  clipped  gray  moustache,  spurred  his 
exhausted  horse  into  a  brief  trot,  and  drew  up  short 
by  the  officer's  side,  his  heavy  eyes  scanning  the  vague 
distance,  even  while  his  right  hand  was  uplifted  in 
perfunctory  salute. 

"  There  's  no  trail  I  know  about  along  this  bank, 
sir,"  he  replied  respectfully,  "  but  the  big  cottonwood 
with  the  dead  branch  forking  out  at  the  top  is  the 
ford  guide." 

They  rode  down  in  moody  silence  into  the  next 
depression,  and  began  wearily  climbing  the  long  hill 
opposite,  apparently  the  last  before  coming  directly 
down  the  banks  of  the  stream.  As  his  barely  moving 
horse  topped  the  uneven  summit,  the  lieutenant  sud 
denly  drew  in  his  rein,  and  uttering  an  exclamation 
of  surprise,  bent  forward,  staring  intently  down  in 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

his  immediate  front.  For  a  single  instant  he  ap 
peared  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  his  own  eyes;  then 
he  swung  hastily  from  out  the  saddle,  all  weariness 
forgotten. 

"  My  God ! "  he  cried,  sharply,  his  eyes  suspi 
ciously  sweeping  the  bare  slope.  "  There  are  two 
bodies  lying  here  —  white  people!  " 

They  lay  all  doubled  up  in  the  coarse  grass,  exactly 
as  they  had  fallen,  the  man  resting  face  downward, 
the  slender  figure  of  the  girl  clasped  vice-like  in  his 
arms,  with  her  tightly  closed  eyes  upturned  toward 
the  glaring  sun.  Their  strange,  strained,  unnatural 
posture,  the  rigidity  of  their  limbs,  the  ghastly  pallor  of 
the  exposed  young  face  accentuated  by  dark,  dishev 
elled  hair,  all  alike  seemed  to  indicate  death.  Never 
once  questioning  but  that  he  was  confronting  the  clos 
ing  scene  of  a  grewsome  tragedy,  the  thoroughly 
aroused  lieutenant  dropped  upon  his  knees  beside 
them,  his  eyes  already  moist  with  sympathy,  his 
anxious  fingers  feeling  for  a  possible  heart-beat.  A 
moment  of  hushed,  breathless  suspense  followed,  and 
then  he  began  flinging  terse,  eager  commands  across 
his  shoulder  to  where  his  men  were  clustered. 

"  Here !  Carson,  Perry,  Ronk,  lay  hold  quick,  and 
break  this  fellow's  clasp,"  he  cried,  briefly.  "  The  girl 
retains  a  spark  of  life  yet,  but  the  man's  arms  fairly 
crush  her." 

With  all  the  rigidity  of  actual  death  those  clutching 
hands  held  their  tenacious  grip,  but  the  aroused  sol 
diers  wrenched  the  interlaced  fingers  apart  with  every 
tenderness  possible  in  such  emergency,  shocked  at 


ON      THE      NAKED      PLAIN 

noting  the  expression  of  intense  agony  stamped  upon 
the  man's  face  when  thus  exposed  to  view.  The 
whole  terrible  story  was  engraven  there  —  how  he  had 
toiled,  agonized,  suffered,  before  finally  yielding  to  the 
inevitable  and  plunging  forward  in  unconsciousness, 
written  as  legibly  as  though  by  a  pen.  Every  pang  of 
mental  torture  had  left  plainest  imprint  across  that  hag 
gard  countenance.  He  appeared  old,  pitiable,  a  wreck. 
Carson,  who  in  his  long  service  had  witnessed  much  of 
death  and  suffering,  bent  tenderly  above  him,  seeking 
for  some  faint  evidence  of  lingering  life.  His  fingers  felt 
for  no  wound,  for  to  his  experienced  eyes  the  sad  tale  was 
already  sufficiently  clear — hunger,  exposure,  the  hor 
rible  heart-breaking  strain  of  hopeless  endeavor,  had 
caused  this  ending,  this  unspeakable  tragedy  of  the  bar 
ren  waterless  plain.  He  had  witnessed  it  all  before,  and 
hoped  now  for  little.  The  anxious  lieutenant,  bare 
headed  under  the  hot  sun-glare,  strode  hastily  across 
from  beside  the  unconscious  but  breathing  girl,  and 
stood  gazing  doubtfully  down  upon  them. 

"Any  life,  sergeant?"  he  demanded,  his  voice 
rendered  husky  by  sympathy. 

"He  doesn't  seem  entirely  gone,  sir,"  and  Carson 
glanced  up  into  the  officer's  face,  his  own  eyes  filled 
with  feeling.  "I  can  distinguish  just  a  wee  bit  of 
breathing,  but  it's  so  weak  the  pulse  hardly  stirs." 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?" 

"  Starving  at  the  bottom,  sir.  The  only  thing  I 
see  now  is  to  get  them  down  to  water  and  food." 

The  young  officer  glanced  swiftly  about  him  across 
that  dreary  picture  of  sun-burnt,  desolate  prairie 

[53] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

stretching  in  every  direction,  his  eyes  pausing  slightly 
as  they  surveyed  the  tops  of  the  distant  cottonwoods. 

"  Sling  blankets  between  your  horses,"  he  com 
manded,  decisively.  "  Move  quickly,  lads,  and  we 
may  save  one  of  these  lives  yet." 

He  led  in  the  preparation  himself,  his  cheeks 
flushed,  his  movements  prompt,  decisive.  As  if  by 
some  magic  discipline  the  rude,  effective  litters  were 
rapidly  made  ready,  and  the  two  seemingly  lifeless 
bodies  gently  lifted  from  off  the  ground  and  deposited 
carefully  within.  Down  the  long,  brown  slope  they 
advanced  slowly,  a  soldier  grasping  the  rein  and  walk 
ing  at  each  horse's  head,  the  supporting  blankets, 
securely  fastened  about  the  saddle  pommels,  swaying 
gently  to  the  measured  tread  of  the  trained  animals. 
The  lieutenant  directed  every  movement,  while  Carson 
rode  ahead,  picking  out  the  safest  route  through  the 
short  grass.  Beneath  the  protecting  shadows  of  the 
first  group  of  cottonwoods,  almost  on  the  banks  of 
the  muddy  Bear  Water,  the  little  party  let  down  their 
senseless  burdens,  and  began  once  more  their  seeming 
ly  hopeless  efforts  at  resuscitation.  A  fire  was  hastily 
kindled  from  dried  and  broken  branches,  and  broth 
was  made,  which  was  forced  through  teeth  that  had  to 
be  pried  open.  Water  was  used  unsparingly,  the 
soldiers  working  with  feverish  eagerness,  inspired  by 
the  constant  admonitions  of  their  officer,  as  well 
as  their  own  curiosity  to  learn  the  facts  hidden 
behind  this  tragedy. 

It  was  the  dark  eyes  of  the  girl  which  opened  first, 
instantly  closing  again  as  the  glaring  light  swept  into 

[54] 


ON      THE      NAKED      PLAIN 

them.  Then  slowly,  and  with  wonderment,  she  gazed 
up  into  those  strange,  rough  faces  surrounding  her, 
pausing  in  her  first  survey  to  rest  her  glance  on  the 
sympathetic  countenance  of  the  young  lieutenant,  who 
held  her  half  reclining  upon  his  arm. 

"Here,"  he  exclaimed,  kindly,  interpreting  her 
glance  as  one  of  fear,  "  you  are  all  right  and  per 
fectly  safe  now,  with  friends  to  care  for  you.  Peters, 
bring  another  cup  of  that  broth.  Now,  miss,  just  take 
a  sup  or  two  of  this,  and  your  strength  will  come 
back  in  a  jiffy.  What  was  the  trouble  ?  Starving?  " 

She  did  exactly  as  he  bade  her,  every  movement 
mechanical,  her  eyes  fastened  upon  his  face. 

"I  —  I  reckon  that  was  partly  it,"  she  responded 
at  last,  her  voice  faint  and  husky.  Then  her  glance 
wandered  away,  and  finally  rested  upon  another  little 
kneeling  group  a  few  yards  farther  down  stream.  A 
look  of  fresh  intelligence  swept  into  her  face. 

"Is  that  him?"  she  questioned,  tremblingly.  "Is 
—is  he  dead?" 

"  He  was  n't  when  we  first  got  here,  but  mighty 
near  gone,  I  'm  afraid.  I  've  been  working  over  you 


ever  since." 


She  shook  herself  free  and  sat  weakly  up,  her  lips 
tight  compressed,  her  eyes  apparently  blind  to  all 
save  that  motionless  body  she  could  barely  distinguish. 
"  Let  me  tell  you,  that  fellow  's  a  man,  just  the  same  ; 
the  gamest,  nerviest  man  I  ever  saw.  I  reckon  he 
got  hit,  too,  though  he  never  said  nothing  about  it. 
That's  his  style." 

The    deeply    interested    lieutenant    removed    his 

[55] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

watchful  eyes  from  off  his  charge  just  long  enough 
to  glance  inquiringly  across  his  shoulder.  "  Has  the 
man  any  signs  of  a  wound,  sergeant?"  he  asked,  loudly. 

"A  mighty  ugly  slug  in  the  shoulder,  sir;  has 
bled  scandalous,  but  I  guess  it's  the  very  luck  that's 
goin'  to  save  him ;  seems  now  to  be  comin'  out  all 
right." 

The  officer's  brows  knitted  savagely.  "  It  begins 
to  look  as  if  this  might  be  some  of  our  business. 
What  happened  ?  Indians  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  How  far  away?" 

"I  don't  know.  They  caught  us  in  a  canyon 
somewhere  out  yonder,  maybe  three  or  four  days  ago ; 
there  was  a  lot  killed,  some  of  them  soldiers.  My 
dad  was  shot,  and  then  that  night  he — he  got  me  out 
up  the  rocks,  and  he  —  he  was  carrying  me  in  his  arms 
when  I  —  I  fainted.  I  saw  there  was  blood  on  his 
shirt,  and  it  was  dripping  down  on  the  grass  as  he 
walked.  That 's  about  all  I  know." 

"  Who  is  the  man  ?     What 's  his  name  ?  " 

The  girl  looked  squarely  into  the  lieutenant's  eyes, 
and,  for  some  reason  which  she  could  never  clearly 
explain  even  to  herself,  lied  calmly.  "  I  don't  know ; 
I  never  asked." 

Sergeant  Carson  rose  stiffly  from  his  knees  beside 
the  extended  figure  and  strode  heavily  across  toward 
where  they  were  sitting,  lifting  his  hand  in  soldierly 
salute,  his  heels  clicking  as  he  brought  them  sharply 
together  in  military  precision. 

"The  fellow  is  getting  his    eyes   open,   sir,"  he 

[56] 


ON      THE      NAKED      PLAIN 

reported,  "  and  is  breathing  more  regular.  Purty  weak 
yit,  but  he'll  come  round  in  time."  He  stared  curi 
ously  down  at  the  girl  now  sitting  up  unsupported, 
while  a  sudden  look  of  surprised  recognition  swept 
across  his  face. 

"Great  guns!"  he  exclaimed,  eagerly, "but  I  know 
you.  You're  old  man  Gillis's  gal  from  Bethune,  ain't 
ye?" 

The  quickly  uplifted  dark  eyes  seemed  to  lighten 
the  ghastly  pallor  of  her  face,  and  her  lips  trembled. 

"Yes,"  she  acknowledged  simply,  "but  he's 
dead." 

The  lieutenant  laid  his  ungloved  hand  softly  on 
her  shoulder,  his  blue  eyes  moist  with  aroused 
feeling. 

"Never  mind,  little  girl,"  he  said,  with  boyish 
sympathy.  "I  knew  Gillis,  and,  now  the  sergeant  has 
spoken,  I  remember  you  quite  well.  Thought  all  the 
time  your  face  was  familiar,  but  could  n't  quite  decide 
where  I  had  seen  you  before.  So  poor  old  Gillis  has 
gone,  and  you  are  left  all  alone  in  the  world !  Well, 
he  was  an  old  soldier,  could  not  have  hoped  to  live 
much  longer  anyway,  and  would  rather  go  fighting 
at  the  end.  We'll  take  you  back  with  us  to 
Bethune,  and  the  ladies  of  the  garrison  will  look 
after  you." 

The  recumbent  figure  lying  a  few  yards  away  half 
lifted  itself  upon  one  elbow,  and  Hampton's  face, 
white  and  haggard,  stared  uncertainly  across  the  open 
space.  For  an  instant  his  gaze  dwelt  upon  the  crossed 
sabres  shielding  the  gilded  "7"  on  the  front  of  the 

[57] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

lieutenant's  scouting  hat,  then  settled  upon  the  face  of 
the  girl.     With  one  hand  pressed  against  the  grass  he 
pushed  himself  slowly  up  until  he  sat  fronting  them, 
his  teeth  clinched  tight,  his  gray  eyes  gleaming  fever 
ishly  in  their  sunken  sockets. 

"I'll  be  damned  if  you  will!"  he  said,  hoarsely. 
She  's  my  girl  now." 


ct 


CHAPTER  V 

A  NEW  PROPOSITION 

TO  one  in  the  least  inclined  toward  fastidiousness, 
the  Miners'  Home  at  Glencaid  would  scarcely 
appeal  as  a  desirable  place  for  long-continued 
residence.  But  such  a  one  would  have  had  small  choice 
in  the  matter,  as  it  chanced  to  be  the  only  hotel  there. 
The  Miners'  Home  was  unquestionably  unique  as 
regards  architectural  details,  having  been  constructed  by 
sections,  in  accordance  with  the  rapid  development  of 
the  camp,  and  enjoyed  the  further  distinction  —  there 
being  only  two  others  equally  stylish  in  town — of  being 
built  of  sawn  plank,  although,  greatly  to  the  regret  of 
its  unfortunate  occupants,  lack  of  seasoning  had  re 
sulted  in  wide  cracks  in  both  walls  and  stairway. 
These  were  numerous,  and  occasionally  proved  peril 
ous  pitfalls  to  unwary  travellers  through  the  ill-lighted 
hall,  while  strict  privacy  within  the  chambers  was  long 
ago  a  mere  reminiscence.  However,  these  deficiencies 
were  to  be  discovered  only  after  entering.  Without, 
the  Miners1  Home  put  up  a  good  front, — which  along 
the  border  is  considered  the  chief  matter  of  impor 
tance, —  and  was  in  reality  the  most  pretentious  struc 
ture  gracing  the  single  cluttered  street  of  Glencaid. 
Indeed,  it  was  pointed  at  with  much  civic  pride 
by  those  citizens  never  compelled  to  exist  within 
its  yawning  walls,  and,  with  its  ornament  of  a  wide 

[59] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

commodious  porch,  appeared  even  palatial  in  compari 
son  with  the  log  stable  upon  its  left  flank,  or  the  dingy 
tent  whose  worm-eaten  canvas  flapped  dejectedly 
upon  the  right.  Directly  across  the  street,  its  front  a 
perfect  blaze  of  glass,  stood  invitingly  the  Occidental 
saloon;  but  the  Widow  Guffy,  who  operated  the 
Miners'  Home  with  a  strong  hand,  possessed  an  an 
tipathy  to  strong  liquor,  which  successfully  kept  all 
suspicion  of  intoxicating  drink  absent  from  those 
sacredly  guarded  precincts,  except  as  her  transient 
guests  imported  it  internally.  In  the  latter  case  she 
naturally  remained  quiescent,  unless  the  offender  be 
came  unduly  boisterous.  On  such  rare  occasions 
Mrs.  Guffy  had  always  proved  equal  to  the  emergency, 
possessing  Irish  facility  with  either  tongue  or  club. 

Mr.  Hampton  during  the  course  of  his  somewhat 
erratic  career  had  previously  passed  several  eventful 
weeks  in  Glencaid.  He  was  neither  unknown  nor 
unappreciated  at  the  Miners'  Home,  and  having  on 
previous  occasions  established  his  reputation  as  a 
spender,  experienced  little  difficulty  now  in  procur 
ing  promptly  the  very  best  accommodation  which  the 
house  afforded.  That  this  arrangement  was  accom 
plished  somewhat  to  the  present  discomfort  of  two 
vociferous  Eastern  tourists  did  not  greatly  interfere 
with  his  pleasurable  interest  in  the  situation. 

"  Send  those  two  fellows  in  here  to  argue  it  out," 
he  said,  languidly,  after  listening  disgustedly  to  their 
loud  lamentations  in  the  hallway,  and  addressing  his 
remarks  to  Mrs.  Guffy,  who  had  glanced  into  the 
room  to  be  again  assured  regarding  his  comfor^  and  to 

[60] 


A      NEW      PROPOSITION 

express  her  deep  regret  over  the  unseemly  racket. 
"  The  girl  has  fallen  asleep,  and  I  'm  getting  tired  of 
hearing  so  much  noise." 

"  No,  be  hivings,  an*  ye  don't  do  nuthin'  of  thet 
sort,  Bob,"  returned  the  widow,  good-naturedly,  busy 
ing  herself  with  a  dust-rag.  "This  is  me  own  house, 
an*  OiVe  tended  ter  the  loikes  of  them  sort  er  fellers 
afore.  There'll  be  no  more  bother  this  toime.  Be- 
soides,  it's  a  pacerul  house  Oi'm  runnin',  an'  Oi  know 
ye  'r  way  of  sittling  them  things.  It 's  too  strenurous 
ye  are,  Misther  Hampton.  And  what  did  ye  do  wid 
the  young  lady,  Oi  make  bould  to  ask?" 

Hampton  carelessly  waved  his  hand  toward  the 
rear  room,  the  door  of  which  stood  ajar,  and  blew  a 
thick  cloud  of  smoke  into  the  air,  his  eyes  continuing 
to  gaze  dreamily  through  the  open  window  toward  the 
distant  hills. 

"Who's  running  the  game  over  at  the  Occiden 
tal?"  he  asked,  professionally. 

"Red  Slavin,  bad  cess  to  him!"  and  her  eyes  re 
garded  her  questioner  with  renewed  anxiety.  "But 
sure  now,  Bob,  ye  mustn't  think  of  playin'  yit  awhoile. 
Yer  narves  are  in  no  fit  shape,  an'  won't  be  fer  a  wake 
yit." 

He  made  no  direct  reply,  and  she  hung  about, 
flapping  the  dust-rag  uneasily. 

"An*  what  did  ye  mane  ter  be  doin'  wid  the  young 
gyurl?"  she  questioned  at  last,  in  womanly  curiosity. 

Hampton  wheeled  about  on  the  hard  chair,  and 
regarded  her  quizzingly.  "Mrs.  Guffy,"  he  said, 
slowly,  "you've  been  a  mother  to  me,  and  it  would 

[6.] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

certainly  be  unkind  not  to  give  you  a  straight  tip. 
Do?  Why,  take  care  of  her,  of  course.  What  else 
would  you  expect  of  one  possessing  my  kindly  dispo 
sition  and  well-known  motives  of  philanthropy?  Can 
it  be  that  I  have  resided  with  you,  off  and  on,  for  ten 
years  past  without  your  ever  realizing  the  fond  yearn 
ings  of  my  heart?  Mrs.  Guffy,  I  shall  make  her  the 
heiress  to  my  millions ;  I  shall  marry  her  off  to  some 
Eastern  nabob,  and  thus  attain  to  that  high  position 
in  society  I  am  so  well  fitted  to  adorn  —  sure,  and  what 
else  were  you  expecting,  Mrs.  Guffy  ? " 

"A  loikely  story,"  with  a  sniff  of  disbelief.  "They 
tell  me  she  's  old  Gillis's  daughter  over  to  Bethune." 

"They  tell  you,  do  they?"  a  sudden  gleam  of 
anger  darkening  his  gray  eyes.  "  Who  tell  you  ? " 

"Sure,  Bob,  an*  thet  's  nuthin'  ter  git  mad  about, 
so  fur  as  I  kin  see.  The  story  is  in  iverybody's 
mouth.  It  wus  thim  sojers  what  brought  ye  in  thet 
tould  most  ov  it,  but  the  lieutenant,  —  Brant  of  the 
Seventh  Cavalry,  no  less, — who  took  dinner  here  afore 
he  wint  back  after  the  dead  bodies,  give  me  her  name." 

"Brant  of  the  Seventh  ? "  He  faced  her  fairly  now, 
his  face  again  haggard  and  gray,  all  the  slight  gleam 
of  fun  gone  out  of  it.  "Was  that  the  lad's  name?" 

"Sure,  and  didn't  ye  know  him?" 

"No;  I  noticed  the  cy'  on  his  hat,  of  course,  but 
never  asked  any  questions,  for  his  face  was  strange.  I 
did  n't  know.  The  name,  when  you  just  spoke  it,struck 
me  rather  queer.  I  —  I  used  to  know  a  Brant  in  the 
Seventh,  but  he  was  much  older;  it  was  not  this  man." 

She  answered  something,  lingering  for  a  moment 
[62] 


A      NEW      PROPOSITION 

at  the  door,  but  he  made  no  response,  and  she  passed 
out  silently,  leaving  him  staring  moodily  through  the 
open  window,  his  eyes  appearing  glazed  and  sightless. 

Glencaid,  like  most  mining  towns  of  its  class,  was 
dull  and  dead  enough  during  the  hours  of  daylight. 
It  was  not  until  after  darkness  fell  that  it  awoke  from 
its  somnolence,  when  the  scattered  miners  came  swarm 
ing  down  from  out  the  surrounding  hills  and  turned 
into  a  noisy,  restless  playground  the  single  narrow, 
irregular  street.  Then  it  suddenly  became  a  mad  com 
mixture  of  Babel  and  hell.  At  this  hour  nothing  living 
moved  within  range  of  the  watcher's  vision  except  a 
vagrant  dog;  the  heat  haze  hung  along  the  near-by 
slopes,  while  a  little  spiral  of  dust  rose  lazily  from  the 
deserted  road.  But  Hampton  had  no  eyes  for  this 
dreary  prospect;  with  contracted  brows  he  was  viewing 
again  that  which  he  had  confidently  believed  to  have 
been  buried  long  ago.  Finally,  he  stepped  quickly 
across  the  little  room,  and,  standing  quietly  within 
the  open  doorway,  looked  long  at  the  young  girl  upon 
the  bed.  She  lay  in  sound,  motionless  sleep,  one 
hand  beneath  her  cheek,  her  heavy  hair,  scarcely  re 
vealing  its  auburn  hue  in  the  gloom  of  the  interior, 
flowing  in  wild  disorder  across  the  crushed  pillow. 
He  stepped  to  the  single  window  and  drew  down 
the  green  shade,  gazed  at  her  again,  a  new  look  of 
tenderness  softening  his  stern  face,  then  went  softly 
out  and  closed  the  door. 

An  hour  later  he  was  still  sitting  on  the  hard  chair 
by  the  window,  a  cigar  between  his  teeth,  thinking. 
The  lowering  sun  was  pouring  a  perfect  flood  of  gold 

[63] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

across  the  rag  carpet,  but  he  remained  utterly  uncon 
scious  as  to  aught  save  the  gloomy  trend  of  his  own 
awakened  memories.  Some  one  rapped  upon  the 
outer  door. 

"Come  in,"  he  exclaimed,  carelessly,  and  barely 
glancing  up.  "Well,  what  is  it  this  time,  Mrs.  Guffy?" 

The  landlady  had  never  before  seen  this  usually 
happy  guest  in  his  present  mood,  and  she  watched 
him  curiously. 

"A  man  wants  ter  see  ye,"  she  announced,  shortly, 
her  hand  on  the  knob. 

"  Oh,  I'm  in  no  shape  for  play  to-night;  go  back 
and  tell  him  so." 

"  Sure,  an'  it 's  aisy  'nough  ter  see  thet  wid  half  an 
eye.  But  this  un  isn't  thet  koind  of  a  man,  an'  he's 
so  moighty  perlite  about  it  Oi  jist  cud  n't  sind  the 
loikes  of  him  away.  It 's  c  Missus  Guffy,  me  dear  mad 
am,  wud  ye  be  koind  enough  to  convey  me  compli- 
mints  to  Misther  Robert  Hampton,  and  requist  him  to 
grant  me  a  few  minutes  of  his  toime  on  an  important 
matter  ?'  Sure,  an'  what  do  ye  think  of  thet  ? " 

"  Huh!  one  of  those  fellows  who  had  these 
rooms?"  and  Hampton  rose  to  his  feet  with  animation. 

The  landlady  lowered  her  voice  to  an  almost  in 
audible  whisper. 

"It's  the  Reverend  Howard  Wynkoop,"  she  an 
nounced,  impressively,  dwelling  upon  the  name. 
"The  Reverend  Howard  Wynkoop,  the  Prasbytarian 
Missionary  —  wouldn't  thet  cork  ye?" 

It  evidently  did,  for  Mr.  Hampton  stared  at  her 
for  fully  a  minute  in  an  amazement  too  profound  for 


A      NEW      PROPOSITION 

fit  expression  in  words.     Then  he  swallowed  some 
thing  in  his  throat. 

"Show  the  gentleman  up,"  he  said,  shortly,  and 
sat  down  to  wait. 

The  Rev.  Howard  Wynkoop  was  neither  giant  nor 
dwarf,  but  the  very  fortunate  possessor  of  a  coun 
tenance  which  at  once  awakened  confidence  in  his 
character.  He  entered  the  room  quietly,  rather 
dreading  this  interview  with  one  of  Mr.  Hampton's 
well-known  proclivities,  yet  in  this  case  feeling  abun 
dantly  fortified  in  the  righteousness  of  his  cause.  His 
brown  eyes  met  the  inquisitive  gray  ones  frankly,  and 
Hampton  waved  him  silently  toward  a  vacant  chair. 

"  Our  lines  of  labor  in  this  vineyard  being  so 
entirely  opposite,"  the  latter  said,  coldly,  but  with 
intended  politeness,  "the  honor  of  your  unexpected 
call  quite  overwhelms  me.  I  shall  have  to  trouble 
you  to  speak  somewhat  softly  in  explanation  of  your 
present  mission,  so  as  not  to  disturb  a  young  girl  who 
chances  to  be  sleeping  in  the  room  beyond." 

Wynkoop  cleared  his  throat  uneasily,  his  naturally 
pale  cheeks  flushed. 

"  It  was  principally  upon  her  account  I  ventured  to 
call,"  he  explained  in  sudden  confidence.  "  Might  I 
see  her?" 

Hampton's  watchful  eyes  swept  the  other's  face 
suspiciously,  and  his  hands  clinched. 

"Relative?"  he  asked  gravely. 

The  preacher  shook  his  head. 

"  Friend  of  the  family,  perhaps?" 
No,  Mr.  Hampton.    My  purpose  in  coming  here 

[65] 


cc 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

is  perfectly  proper,  yet  the  request  was  not  advanced 
as  a  right,  but  merely  as  a  special  privilege." 

A  moment  Hampton  hesitated ;  then  he  arose  and 
quietly  crossed  the  room,  holding  open  the  door. 
Without  a  word  being  spoken  the  minister  followed, 
and  stood  beside  him.  For  several  minutes  the  eyes 
of  both  men  rested  upon  the  girl's  sleeping  form  and 
upturned  face.  Then  Wynkoop  drew  silently  back, 
and  Hampton  closed  the  door  noiselessly. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  inquiringly,  "  what  does  all  this 
mean  ? " 

The  minister  hesitated  as  if  doubtful  how  best  to 
explain  the  nature  of  his  rather  embarrassing  mission, 
his  gaze  upon  the  strong  face  of  the  man  fronting  him 
so  sternly. 

"Let  us  sit  down  again,"  he  said  at  last,  "and 
I  will  try  to  make  my  purpose  sufficiently  clear.  I 
am  not  here  to  mince  words,  nor  do  I  believe  you  to 
be  the  kind  of  a  man  who  would  respect  me  if  I  did. 
I  may  say  something  that  will  not  sound  pleasant,  but 
in  the  cause  of  my  Master  I  cannot  hesitate.  You  are 
an  older  man  than  I,  Mr.  Hampton ;  your  experience 
in  life  has  doubtless  been  much  broader  than  mine, 
and  it  may  even  be  that  in  point  of  education  you 
are  likewise  my  superior.  Nevertheless,  as  the  only 
minister  of  the  Gospel  residing  in  this  community  it  is 
beyond  question  my  plain  duty  to  speak  a  few  words 
to  you  in  behalf  of  this  young  lady,  and  her  probable 
future.  I  trust  not  to  be  offensive,  yet  cannot  shirk 
the  requirements  of  my  sacred  office." 

The     speaker     paused,     somewhat     disconcerted 
[66] 


A      NEW      PROPOSITION 

perhaps  by  the  hardening  of  the  lines  in  Hampton's 
face. 

"Go  on,"  commanded  Hampton,  tersely,  "only 
let  the  preacher  part  slide,  and  say  just  what  you  have 
to  say  as  man  to  man." 

Wynkoop  stiffened  perceptibly  in  his  chair,  his 
face  paling  somewhat,  but  his  eyes  unwavering. 
Realizing  the  reckless  nature  before  him,  he  was  one 
whom  opposition  merely  inspired. 

"I  prefer  to  do  so,"  he  continued,  more  calmly. 
"  It  will  render  my  unpleasant  task  much  easier,  and 
yield  us  both  a  more  direct  road  for  travel.  I  have 
been  laboring  on  this  field  for  nearly  three  years. 
When  I  first  came  here  you  were  pointed  out  to  me 
as  a  most  dangerous  man,  and  ever  since  then  I  have 
constantly  been  regaled  by  the  stories  of  your 
exploits.  I  have  known  you  merely  through  such 
unfriendly  reports,  and  came  here  strongly  preju 
diced  against  you  as  a  representative  of  every  evil  I 
war  against.  We  have  never  met  before,  because 
there  seemed  to  be  nothing  in  common  between  us ; 
because  I  had  been  led  to  suppose  you  to  be  an 
entirely  different  man  from  what  I  now  believe  you 


are." 


Hampton  stirred  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"  Shall  I  paint  in  exceedingly  plain  words  the 
picture  given  me  of  you  ?  " 

There  was  no  response,  but  the  speaker  moistened 
his  lips  and  proceeded  firmly.  "It  was  that  of  a 
professional  gambler,  utterly  devoid  of  mercy  toward 
his  victims;  a  reckless  fighter,  who  shot  to  kill  upon 

[67] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

the  least  provocation ;  a  man  without  moral  char 
acter,  and  from  whom  any  good  action  was  impossi 
ble.  That  was  what  was  said  about  you.  Is  the  tale 
true  ?  " 

Hampton  laughed  unpleasantly,  his  eyes  grown 
hard  and  ugly. 

"  I  presume  it  must  be/*  he  admitted,  with  a  quick 
side  glance  toward  the  closed  door,  cc  for  the  girl  out 
yonder  thought  about  the  same.  A  most  excellent 
reputation  to'  establish  with  only  ten  years  of  strict 
attendance  to  business." 

Wynkoop's  grave  face  expressed  his  disapproval. 

"Well,  in  my  present  judgment  that  report  was 
not  altogether  true,"  he  went  on  clearly  and  with 
greater  confidence.  "I  did  suppose  you  exactly  that 
sort  of  a  man  when  I  first  came  into  this  room.  I 
have  not  believed  so,  however,  for  a  single  moment 
since.  Nevertheless,  the  naked  truth  is  certainly  bad 
enough,  without  any  necessity  for  our  resorting  to 
romance.  You  may  deceive  others  by  an  assumption 
of  recklessness,  but  I  feel  convinced  your  true  nature 
is  not  evil.  It  has  been  warped  through  some  cause 
which  is  none  of  my  business.  Let  us  deal  alone  with 
facts.  You  are  a  gambler,  a  professional  gambler,  with 
all  that  that  implies ;  your  life  is,  of  necessity,  passed 
among  the  most  vicious  and  degrading  elements  of 
mining  camps,  and  you  do  not  hesitate  even  to  take 
human  life  when  in  your  judgment  it  seems  necessary 
to  preserve  your  own.  Under  this  veneer  of  lawless 
ness  you  may,  indeed,  possess  a  warm  heart,  Mr. 
Hampton;  you  may  be  a  good  fellow,  but  you  are 

[68] 


A      NEW      PROPOSITION 

certainly  not  a  model  character,  even  according  to  the 
liberal  code  of  the  border." 

"  Extremely  kind  of  you  to  enter  my  rooms 
uninvited,  and  furnish  me  with  this  list  of  moral 
deficiencies,"  acknowledged  the  other  with  affected 
carelessness.  "  But  thus  far  you  have  failed  to  tell 
me  anything  strikingly  new.  Am  I  to  understand 
you  have  some  particular  object  in  this  exchange 
of  amenities?" 

"Most  assuredly.  It  is  to  ask  if  such  a  person  as 
you  practically  confess  yourself  to  be  —  homeless, 
associating  only  with  the  most  despicable  and  vicious 
characters,  and  leading  so  uncertain  and  disreputable  a 
life  —  can  be  fit  to  assume  charge  of  a  girl,  almost 
a  woman,  and  mould  her  future  ?  " 

For  a  long,  breathless  moment  Hampton  stared 
incredulously  at  his  questioner,  crushing  his  cigar 
between  his  teeth.  Twice  he  started  to  speak,  but 
literally  choked  back  the  bitter  words  burning 
his  lips,  while  an  uncontrollable  admiration  for  the 
other's  boldness  began  to  overcome  his  first  fierce 
anger. 

"By  God!"  he  exclaimed  at  last,  rising  to  his  feet 
and  pointing  toward  the  door.  "  I  have  shot  men  for 
less.  Go,  before  I  forget  your  cloth.  You  little 
impudent  fool!  See  here — I  saved  that  girl  from 
death,  or  worse ;  I  plucked  her  from  the  very  mouth 
of  hell ;  I  like  her ;  she  's  got  sand  ;  so  far  as  I  know 
there  is  not  a  single  soul  for  her  to  turn  to  for  help  in 
all  this  wide  world.  And  you,  you  miserable, 
snivelling  hypocrite,  you  little  creeping  Presbyterian 

[69] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

parson,  you  want  me  to  shake  her!  What  sort  of  a 
wild  beast  do  you  suppose  I  am  ? " 

Wynkoop  had  taken  one  hasty  step  backward, 
impelled  to  it  by  the  fierce  anger  blazing  from  those 
stern  gray  eyes.  But  now  he  paused,  and,  for  the  only 
time  on  record,  discovered  the  conventional  language 
of  polite  society  inadequate  to  express  his  needs. 

"  I  think/'  he  said,  scarcely  realizing  his  own 
words,  "you  are  a  damned  fool." 

Into  Hampton's  eyes  there  leaped  a  light  upon 
which  other  men  had  looked  before  they  died,  —  the 
strange  mad  gleam  one  sometimes  sees  in  fighting 
animals,  or  amid  the  fierce  charges  of  war.  His 
hand  swept  instinctively  backward,  closing  upon  the 
butt  of  a  revolver  beneath  his  coat,  and  for  one  second 
he  who  had  dared  such  utterance  looked  on  death. 
Then  the  hard  lines  about  the  man's  mouth  softened, 
the  fingers  clutching  the  weapon  relaxed,  and  Hamp 
ton  laid  one  opened  hand  upon  the  minister's  shrinking 
shoulder. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said,  his  voice  unsteady  from  so 
sudden  a  reaction.  "Perhaps  —  perhaps  I  don't 
exactly  understand. " 

For  a  full  minute  they  sat  thus  looking  at  each 
other  through  the  fast  dimming  light,  like  two  prize 
fighters  meeting  for  the  first  time  within  the  ring,  and 
taking  mental  stock  before  beginning  their  physical 
argument.  Hampton,  with  a  touch  of  his  old  audacity 
of  manner,  was  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  So  you  think  I  am  a  damned  fool.  Well, 
we  are  in  pretty  fair  accord  as  to  that  fact,  although 

[70] 


A      NEW      PROPOSITION 

no  one  before  has  ever  ventured  to  state  it  quite  so 
clearly  in  my  presence.  Perhaps  you  will  kindly 
explain  ? " 

The  preacher  wet  his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue, 
forgetting  himself  when  his  thoughts  began  to 
crystallize  into  expression. 

"  I  regret  having  spoken  as  I  did,"  he  began. 
"  Such  language  is  not  my  custom.  I  was  irritated 
because  of  your  haste  in  rejecting  my  advances  before 
hearing  the  proposition  I  came  to  submit.  I  certainly 
respect  your  evident  desire  to  be  of  assistance  to  this 
young  woman,  nor  have  I  the  slightest  intention  of 
interfering  between  you.  Your  act  in  preserving  her 
life  was  a  truly  noble  one,  and  your  loyalty  to  her 
interests  since  is  worthy  of  all  Christian  praise.  But 
I  believe  I  have  a  right  to  ask,  what  do  you  intend 
for  the  future?  Keep  her  with  you?  Drag  her 
about  from  camp  to  camp  ?  Educate  her  among  the 
contaminating  poison  of  gambling-holes  and  dance- 
halls  ?  Is  her  home  hereafter  to  be  the  saloon  and 
the  rough  frontier  hotel?  her  ideal  of  manhood  the 
quarrelsome  gambler,  and  of  womanhood  a  painted 
harlot  ?  Mr.  Hampton,  you  are  evidently  a  man  of 
education,  of  early  refinement;  you  have  known 
better  things;  and  I  have  come  to  you  seeking  merely 
to  aid  you  in  deciding  this  helpless  young  woman's 
destiny.  I  thought,  I  prayed,  you  would  be  at  once 
interested  in  that  purpose,  and  would  comprehend  the 
reasonableness  of  my  position." 

Hampton  sat  silent,  gazing  out  of  the  window,  his 
eyes  apparently  on  the  lights  now  becoming  dimly 

[71] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

visible  in  the  saloon  opposite.  For  a  considerable 
time  he  made  no  move,  and  the  other  straightened 
back  in  his  chair  watching  him. 

"  Well ! "  he  ventured  at  last,  ccwhat  is  your  propo 
sition  ?"  The  question  was  quietly  asked,  but  a 
slight  tremor  in  the  low  voice  told  of  repressed 
feeling. 

"  That,  for  the  present  at  least,  you  confide  this 
girl  into  the  care  of  some  worthy  woman." 

"  Have  you  any  such  in  mind?  " 

"  I  have  already  discussed  the  matter  briefly  with 
Mrs.  Herndon,  wife  of  the  superintendent  of  the 
Golden  Rule  mines.  She  is  a  refined  Christian  lady, 
beyond  doubt  the  most  proper  person  to  assume  such 
a  charge  in  this  camp.  There  is  very  little  in  such  a 
place  as  this  to  interest  a  woman  of  her  capabilities, 
and  I  believe  she  would  be  delighted  to  have  such  an 
opportunity  for  doing  good.  She  has  no  children  of 
her  own." 

Hampton  flung  his  sodden  cigar  butt  out  of  the 
window.  "I'll  talk  it  over  to-morrow  with  —  with 
Miss  Gillis,"  he  said,  somewhat  gruffly.  "  It  may 
be  this  means  a  good  deal  more  to  me  than  you 
suppose,  parson,  but  I  'm  bound  to  acknowledge  there 
is  considerable  hard  sense  in  what  you  have  just  said, 
and  I  '11  talk  it  over  with  the  girl." 

Wynkoop  held  out  his  hand  cordially,  and  the 
firm  grasp  of  the  other  closed  over  his  fingers. 

"  I  don't  exactly  know  why  I  didn't  kick  you 
downstairs,"  the  latter  commented,  as  though  still  in 
wonder  at  himself.  "  Never  remember  being  quite  so 


A      NEW      PROPOSITION 

considerate  before,  but  I  reckon  you  must  have  come 
at  me  in  about  the  right  way/' 

If  Wynkoop  answered,  his  words  were  indis 
tinguishable,  but  Hampton  remained  standing  in  the 
open  door  watching  the  missionary  go  down  the 
narrow  stairs. 

"  Nervy  little  devil,"  he  acknowledged  slowly  to 
himself.  "And  maybe,  after  all,  that  would  be  the 
best  thing  for  the  Kid.". 


[73] 


CHAPTER  VI 

"To  BE  OR  NOT  TO  BE" 

THEY  were  seated  rather  close  together  upon  the 
steep  hillside,  gazing  silently  down  upon  squalid 
Glencaid.  At  such  considerable  distance  all  the 
dull  shabbiness  of  the  mining  town  had  disappeared, 
and  it  seemed  almost  ideal,  viewed  against  the  natur  1 
background  of  brown  rocks  and  green  trees.  All 
about  them  was  the  clear,  invigorating  air  of  the  uplands, 
through  which  the  eyes  might  trace  for  miles  the 
range  of  irregular  rocky  hills,  while  just  above,  seem 
ingly  almost  within  touch  of  the  extended  hand, 
drooped  the  blue  circling  sky,  unflecked  by  cloud. 
Everywhere  was  loneliness,  no  sound  telling  of  the 
labor  of  man  reached  them,  and  the  few  scattered 
buildings  far  below  resembling  mere  doll-houses. 

They  had  conversed  only  upon  the  constantly 
changing  beauty  of  the  scene,  or  of  incidents  connected 
with  their  upward  climb,  while  moving  slowly  along 
the  trail  through  the  fresh  morning  sunshine.  Now 
they  sat  in  silence,  the  young  girl,  with  cheeks 
flushed  and  dreamy  eyes  aglow,  gazing  far  off  along 
the  valley,  the  man  watching  her  curiously,  and  won 
dering  how  best  to  approach  his  task.  For  the  first 
time  he  began  to  realize  the  truth,  which  had  been 
partially  borne  in  upon  him  the  previous  evening  by 
Wynkoop,  that  this  was  no  mere  child  with  whom  he 

[74] 


"TO      BE      OR      NOT      TO      BE" 

dealt,  but  a  young  girl  upon  the  verge  of  womanhood. 
Such  knowledge  began  to  reveal  much  that  came  be 
fore  him  as  new,  changing  the  entire  nature  of  their 
present  relationship,  as  well  as  the  scope  of  his  own 
plain  duty.  It  was  his  wont  to  look  things  squarely 
in  the  face,  and  unpleasant  and  unwelcome  as  was  the 
task  now  confronting  him,  during  the  long  night  hours 
he  had  settled  it  once  for  all  —  the  preacher's  words 
were  just. 

Observing  her  now,  sitting  thus  in  total  uncon 
sciousness  of  his  scrutiny,  Hampton  made  no  attempt 
to  analyze  the  depth  of  his  interest  for  this  waif  who 
had  come  drifting  into  his  life.  He  did  not  in  the 
least  comprehend  why  she  should  have  touched  his 
heart  with  generous  impulses,  nor  did  he  greatly  care. 
The  fact  was  far  the  more  important,  and  that  fact 
he  no  longer  questioned.  He  had  been  a  lonely, 
unhappy,  discontented  man  for  many  a  long  year, 
shunned  by  his  own  sex,  who  feared  him,  never  long 
seeking  the  society  of  the  other,  and  retaining  little  real 
respect  for  himself.  Under  such  conditions  a  reaction 
was  not  unnatural,  and,  short  as  the  time  had  been 
since  their  first  meeting,  this  odd,  straightforward  chit 
of  a  girl  had  found  an  abiding-place  in  his  heart, 
had  furnished  him  a  distinct  motive  in  life  before 
unknown. 

Even  to  his  somewhat  prejudiced  eyes  she  was  not 
an  attractive  creature,  for  she  possessed  no  clear  con 
ception  of  how  to  render  apparent  those  few  feminine 
charms  she  possessed.  Negligence  and  total  un 
consciousness  of  self,  coupled  with  lack  of  womanly 

[75] 


CHAPTER  VI 
"To  BE  OR  NOT  TO  BE" 

THEY  were  seated  rather  close  together  upon  the 
steep  hillside,  gazing  silently  down  upon  squalid 
Glencaid.  At  such  considerable  distance  all  the 
dull  shabbiness  of  the  mining  town  had  disappeared, 
and  it  seemed  almost  ideal,  viewed  against  the  natur  1 
background  of  brown  rocks  and  green  trees.  All 
about  them  was  the  clear,  invigorating  air  of  the  uplands, 
through  which  the  eyes  might  trace  for  miles  the 
range  of  irregular  rocky  hills,  while  just  above,  seem 
ingly  almost  within  touch  of  the  extended  hand, 
drooped  the  blue  circling  sky,  unflecked  by  cloud. 
Everywhere  was  loneliness,  no  sound  telling  of  the 
labor  of  man  reached  them,  and  the  few  scattered 
buildings  far  below  resembling  mere  doll-houses. 

They  had  conversed  only  upon  the  constantly 
changing  beauty  of  the  scene,  or  of  incidents  connected 
with  their  upward  climb,  while  moving  slowly  along 
the  trail  through  the  fresh  morning  sunshine.  Now 
they  sat  in  silence,  the  young  girl,  with  cheeks 
flushed  and  dreamy  eyes  aglow,  gazing  far  off  along 
the  valley,  the  man  watching  her  curiously,  and  won 
dering  how  best  to  approach  his  task.  For  the  first 
time  he  began  to  realize  the  truth,  which  had  been 
partially  borne  in  upon  him  the  previous  evening  by 
Wynkoop,  that  this  was  no  mere  child  with  whom  he 

[74] 


«TO      BE      OR      NOT      TO      BE" 

dealt,  but  a  young  girl  upon  the  verge  of  womanhood. 
Such  knowledge  began  to  reveal  much  that  came  be 
fore  him  as  new,  changing  the  entire  nature  of  their 
present  relationship,  as  well  as  the  scope  of  his  own 
plain  duty.  It  was  his  wont  to  look  things  squarely 
in  the  face,  and  unpleasant  and  unwelcome  as  was  the 
task  now  confronting  him,  during  the  long  night  hours 
he  had  settled  it  once  for  all  —  the  preacher's  words 
were  just. 

Observing  her  now,  sitting  thus  in  total  uncon 
sciousness  of  his  scrutiny,  Hampton  made  no  attempt 
to  analyze  the  depth  of  his  interest  for  this  waif  who 
had  come  drifting  into  his  life.  He  did  not  in  the 
least  comprehend  why  she  should  have  touched  his 
heart  with  generous  impulses,  nor  did  he  greatly  care. 
The  fact  was  far  the  more  important,  and  that  fact 
he  no  longer  questioned.  He  had  been  a  lonely, 
unhappy,  discontented  man  for  many  a  long  year, 
shunned  by  his  own  sex,  who  feared  him,  never  long 
seeking  the  society  of  the  other,  and  retaining  little  real 
respect  for  himself.  Under  such  conditions  a  reaction 
was  not  unnatural,  and,  short  as  the  time  had  been 
since  their  first  meeting,  this  odd,  straightforward  chit 
of  a  girl  had  found  an  abiding-place  in  his  heart, 
had  furnished  him  a  distinct  motive  in  life  before 
unknown. 

Even  to  his  somewhat  prejudiced  eyes  she  was  not 
an  attractive  creature,  for  she  possessed  no  clear  con 
ception  of  how  to  render  apparent  those  few  feminine 
charms  she  possessed.  Negligence  and  total  un 
consciousness  of  self,  coupled  with  lack  of  womanly 

[75] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

on  your  style,  let  me  tell  you,  and  I  reckon  there 's 
plenty  of  ways  for  me  to  get  along.  Only  first,  I  pro 
pose  to  understand  what  your  little  game  is.  You 
don't  throw  down  your  hand  like  that  without  some 


reason/' 


Hampton  sat  up,  spurred  into  instant  admiration 
by  such  independence  of  spirit.  "You  grow  rather 
good-looking,  Kid,  when  you  get  hot,  but  you  go  at 
things  half-cocked,  and  you  Ve  got  to  get  over  it. 
That 's  the  whole  trouble— you  Ve  never  been  trained, 
and  I  would  n't  make  much  of  a  trainer  for  a 
high-strung  filly  like  you.  Ever  remember  your 
mother?" 

"Mighty  little;  reckon  she  must  have  died  when 
I  was  about  five  years  old.  That 's  her  picture." 

Hampton  took  in  his  hand  the  old-fashioned 
locket  she  held  out  toward  him,  the  long  chain 
still  clasped  about  her  throat,  and  pried  open  the 
stiff  catch  with  his  knife  blade.  She  bent  down  to 
fasten  her  loosened  shoe,  and  when  her  eyes  were  up 
lifted  again  his  gaze  was  riveted  upon  the  face  in  the 
picture. 

"Mighty  pretty,  wasn't  she?"  she  asked  with  a 
sudden  girlish  interest,  bending  forward  to  look,  re 
gardless  of  his  strained  attitude.  "And  she  was 
prettier  than  that  even,  the  way  I  remember  her  best, 
with  her  hair  all  hanging  down,  coming  to  tuck  me 
into  bed  at  night.  Someway  that's  how  I  always 
seem  to  see  her." 

The  man  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  snapped  shut 
the  locket,  yet  still  retained  it  in  his  hand.  "Is  —  is 

[78] 


"TO     BE      OR      NOT     TO      BE" 

she  dead?"  he  questioned,  and  his  voice  trembled  in 
spite  of  steel  nerves. 

"Yes,  in  St.  Louis;  dad  took  me  there  with  him 
two  years  ago,  and  I  saw  her  grave." 

"  Dad  ?     Do  you  mean  old  Gillis  ? ' 

She  nodded,  beginning  dimly  to  wonder  why  he 
should  speak  so  fiercely  and  stare  at  her  in  that  odd 
way.  He  seemed  to  choke  twice  before  he  could 
ask  the  next  question. 

"Did  he — old  Gillis,  I  mean — claim  to  be  your 
father,  or  her  husband?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  reckon  he  ever  did,  but  he  gave  me 
that  picture,  and  told  me  she  was  my  mother.  I  al 
ways  lived  with  him,  and  called  him  dad.  I  reckon 
he  liked  it,  and  he  was  mighty  good  to  me.  We  were 
at  Randolph  a  long  time,  and  since  then  he's  been 
post-trader  at  Bethune.  That's  all  I  know  about 
it,  for  dad  never  talked  very  much,  and  he  used  to  get 
mad  when  I  asked  him  questions." 

Hampton  dropped  the  locket  from  his  grasp,  and 
arose  to  his  feet.  For  several  minutes  he  stood  with 
his  back  turned  toward  her,  apparently  gazing  down 
the  valley,  his  jaw  set,  his  dimmed  eyes  seeing  noth 
ing.  Slowly  the  color  came  creeping  back  into  his 
face,  and  his  hands  unclinched.  Then  he  wheeled 
about,  and  looked  down  upon  her,  completely  restored 
to  his  old  nature. 

"Then  it  seems  that  it  is  just  you  and  I,  Kid,  who 
have  got  to  settle  this  little  affair,"  he  announced,  firmly. 
"I  '11  have  my  say  about  it,  and  then  you  can  uncork 
your  feelings.  I  rather  imagine  I  have  n't  very  much 

[79] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

legal  right  in  the  premises,  but  1  Ve  got  a  sort  of  moral 
grip  on  you  by  reason  of  having  pulled  you  out  alive 
from  that  canyon  yonder,  and  I  propose  to  play  this 
game  to  the  limit.  You  say  your  mother  is  dead,  and 
the  man  who  raised  you  is  dead,  and,  so  far  as  either 
of  us  know,  there  is  n't  a  soul  anywhere  on  earth  who 
possesses  any  claim  over  you,  or  any  desire  to  have. 
Then,  naturally,  the  whole  jack-pot  is  up  to  me, 
provided  I  Ve  got  the  cards.  Now,  Kid,  waving  your 
prejudice  aside,  I  ain't  just  exactly  the  best  man  in  this 
world  to  bring  up  a  girl  like  you  and  make  a  lady  out 
of  her.  I  thought  yesterday  that  maybe  we  might 
manage  to  hitch  along  together  for  a  while,  but  I  Ve 
got  a  different  think  coming  to-day.  There  's  no  use 
disfiguring  the  truth.  I  'm  a  gambler,  something  of  a 
fighter  on  the  side,  and  folks  don't  say  anything  too 
pleasant  about  my  peaceful  disposition  around  these 
settlements ;  I  have  n't  any  home,  and  mighty  few 
friends,  and  the  few  I  have  got  are  nothing  to  boast 
about.  I  reckon  there  's  a  cause  for  it  all.  So, 
considering  everything,  I  'm  about  the  poorest  propo 
sition  ever  was  heard  of  to  start  a  young  ladies'  sem 
inary.  The  Lord  knows  old  Gillis  was  bad  enough, 
but  I  'm  a  damned  sight  worse.  Now,  some  woman 
has  got  to  take  you  in  hand,  and  I  reckon  I  Ve  found 
the  right  one/' 

"  Coin'  to  get  married,  Bob  ?  " 

"  Not  this  year ;  it 's  hardly  become  so  serious  as 
that,  but  I  'm  going  to  find  you  a  good  home  here, 
and  I  'm  going  to  put  up  plenty  of  stuff,  so  that 
they  '11  take  care  of  you  all  right  and  proper." 

[80] 


"TO      BE      OR      NOT     TO     BE' 

The  dark  eyes  never  wavered  as  they  looked 
steadily  into  the  gray  ones,  but  the  chin  quivered 
slightly. 

"  I  reckon  I  'd  rather  try  it  alone, "  she  announced 
stubbornly.  "Maybe  I  might  have  stood  it  with  you, 
Bob  Hampton,  but  a  woman  is  the  limit." 

Hampton  in  other  and  happier  days  had  made 
something  of  a  study  of  the  feminine  nature,  and  he 
realized  now  the  utter  impracticability  of  any  attempt 
at  driving. 

"  I  expect  it  will  go  rather  hard  at  first,  Kid,"  he 
admitted  craftily,  "  but  I  think  you  might  try  it  a  while 
just  to  sort  of  please  me." 

"Who  — who  is  she?"  doubtfully. 

"Mrs.  Herndon,  wife  of  the  superintendent  of  the 
c Golden  Rule'  mine";  and  he  waved  his  hand  toward 
the  distant  houses.  "  They  tell  me  she 's  a  mighty 
fine  woman." 

"  Oh,  they  do  ?  Then  somebody  's  been  stirring 
you  up  about  me,  have  they  ?  I  thought  that  was 
about  the  way  of  it.  Somebody  wants  to  reform  me, 
I  reckon.  Well,  maybe  I  won't  be  reformed.  Who 
was  it,  Bob  ?  " 

"The  Presbyterian  Missionary,"  he  confessed 
reluctantly,  "a  nervy  little  chap  named  Wynkoop ;  he 
came  in  to  see  me  last  night  while  you  were  asleep." 
He  faced  her  open  scorn  unshrinkingly,  his  mind 
fully  decided,  and  clinging  to  one  thought  with  all  the 
tenacity  of  his  nature. 

" A  preacher!"  her  voice  vibrant  with  derision, 
"a  preacher!  Well,  of  all  things,  Bob  Hampton! 

[80 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

You  led  around  by  the  nose  in  that  way !  Did  he 
want  you  to  bring  me  to  Sunday  school?  A  preacher ! 
And  I  suppose  the  fellow  expects  to  turn  me  over 
to  one  of  his  flock  for  religious  instruction.  He'll 
have  you  studying  theology  inside  of  a  year.  A 
preacher !  Oh,  Lord,  and  you  agreed !  Well,  I  won't 
go ;  so  there  !  " 

"As  I  understand  the  affair,"  Hampton  continued, 
as  she  paused  for  breath,  "  it  was  Lieutenant  Brant  who 
suggested  the  idea  of  his  coming  to  me.  Brant  knew 
Gillis,  and  remembered  you,  and  realizing  your  un 
pleasant  situation,  thought  such  an  arrangement  would 
be  for  your  benefit." 

"Brant!  "she  burst  forth  in  renewed  anger;  "he 
did,  did  he !  The  putty-faced  dandy  !  I  used  to  see 
him  at  Bethune,  and  you  can  bet  he  never  bothered  his 
head  about  me  then.  No,  and  he  did  n't  even  know 
me  out  yonder,  until  after  the  sergeant  spoke  up. 
What  business  has  that  fellow  got  planning  what  I 
shall  do?" 

Hampton  made  no  attempt  to  answer.  It  was 
better  to  let  her  indignation  die  out  naturally,  and 
so  he  asked  a  question.  "  What  is  this  Brant  doing  at 
Bethune  ?  There  is  no  cavalry  stationed  there." 

She  glanced  up  quickly,  interested  by  the  sudden 
change  in  his  voice.  "  I  heard  dad  say  he  was  kept 
there  on  some  special  detail.  His  regiment  is 
stationed  at  Fort  Lincoln,  somewhere  farther  north. 
He  used  to  come  down  and  talk  with  dad  even 
ings,  because  daddy  saw  service  in  the  Seventh 
when  it  was  first  organized  after  the  war." 

[82] 


«TO      BE      OR      NOT     TO      BE" 

"  Did  you  —  did  you  ever  hear  either  of  them  say 
anything  about  Major  Alfred  Brant?  He  must  have 
been  this  lad's  father." 

"  No,  1  never  heard  much  they  said.  Did  you 
know  him  ? " 

"  The  father,  yes,  but  that  was  years  ago.  Come, 
Kid,  all  this  is  only  ancient  history,  and  just  as 
well  forgotten.  Now,  you  are  a  sensible  girl,  when 
your  temper  don't  get  away  with  you,  and  I  am 
simply  going  to  leave  this  matter  to  your  better  judg 
ment.  Will  you  go  to  Mrs.  Herndon's,  and  find  out 
how  you  like  it  ?  You  need  n't  stop  there  an  hour 
if  she  is  n't  good  to  you,  but  you  ought  not  to 
want  to  remain  with  me,  and  grow  up  like  a  rough 
boy." 

"You  —  you  really  want  me  to  go,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  want  you  to  go.  It 's  a  chance  for  you, 
Kid,  and  there  is  n't  a  bit  of  a  show  in  the  kind  of  a 
life  I  lead.  I  never  have  been  in  love  with  it  myself, 
and  only  took  to  it  in  the  first  place  because  the  devil 
happened  to  drive  me  that  way.  The  Lord  knows  I 
don't  want  to  lead  any  one  else  through  such  a  muck. 
So  it  is  a  try  ?  " 

The  look  of  defiance  faded  slowly  out  of  her  face 
as  she  stood  gravely  regarding  him.  The  man  was  in 
deadly  earnest,  and  she  felt  the  quiet  insistence  of  his 
manner.  He  really  desired  it  to  be  decided  in  this 
way,  and  somehow  his  will  had  become  her  law,  al 
though  such  a  suspicion  had  never  once  entered  her 
mind. 

"You  bet,  if  you  put  it  that  way,"  she  consented, 

[83] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

simply,  "but  I  reckon  that  Mrs.  Herndon  is  likely 
to  wish  I  had  n't." 

Together,  yet  scarcely  exchanging  another  word, 
the  two  retraced  their  steps  slowly  down  the  steep 
trail  leading  toward  the  little  town  in  the  valley,  walk 
ing  unconsciously  the  pathway  of  fate,  the  way  of  all 
the  world. 


[84] 


CHAPTER  VII 
"I'VE  COME  HERE  TO  LIVE" 

WIDELY  as  these  two  companions  differed  in 
temperament  and  experience,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  decide  which  felt  the  greater 
uneasiness  at  the  prospect  immediately  before  them. 
The  girl  openly  rebellious,  the  man  extremely  doubtful, 
with  reluctant  steps  they  approached  that  tall,  homely> 
yellow  house  —  outwardly  the  most  pretentious  in 
Glencaid  —  which  stood  well  up  in  the  valley,  where 
the  main  road  diverged  into  numerous  winding 
trails  leading  toward  the  various  mines  among  the 
foothills. 

They  were  so  completely  opposite,  these  two,  that 
more  than  one  chance  passer-by  glanced  curiously 
toward  them  as  they  picked  their  way  onward  through 
the  red  dust.  Hampton,  slender  yet  firmly  knit, 
his  movements  quick  like  those  of  a  watchful  tiger,  his 
shoulders  set  square,  his  body  held  erect  as  though 
trained  to  the  profession  of  arms,  his  gray  eyes 
marking  every  movement  about  him  with  a  suspicion 
born  of  continual  exposure  to  peril,  his  features  finely 
chiselled,  with  threads  of  gray  hair  beginning  to  show 
conspicuously  about  the  temples.  One  would  glance 
twice  at  him  anywhere,  for  in  chin,  mouth,  and  eyes  were 
plainly  pictured  the  signs  of  strength,  evidences  that 
he  had  fought  stern  battles,  and  was  no  craven.  For 

[85] 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

good  or  evil  he  might  be  trusted  to  act  instantly, 
and,  if  need  arose,  to  the  very  death.  His  attire  of 
fashionably  cut  black  cloth,  and  his  immaculate  linen, 
while  neat  and  unobtrusive,  yet  appeared  extremely 
unusual  in  that  careless  land  of  clay-baked  overalls  and 
dingy  woollens.  Beside  him,  in  vivid  contrast,  the  girl 
trudged  in  her  heavy  shoes  and  bedraggled  skirts,  her 
sullen  eyes  fastened  doggedly  on  the  road,  her  hair 
showing  ragged  and  disreputable  in  the  brilliant  sun 
shine.  Hampton  himself  could  not  remain  altogether 
indifferent  to  the  contrast. 

"  You  look  a  little  rough,  Kid,  for  a  society  call," 
he  said.  "If  there  was  any  shebang  in  this  mud-hole 
of  a  town  that  kept  any  women's  things  on  sale  fit  to 
look  at,  I  'd  be  tempted  to  fix  you  up  a  bit." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  of  it,"  she  responded,  grimly. 
<(  I  hope  I  look  so  blame  tough  that  woman  won't 
say  a  civil  word  to  us.  You  can  bet  I  ain't  going  to 
strain  myself  to  please  the  likes  of  her." 

"  You  certainly  exhibit  no  symptoms  of  doing  so," 
he  admitted,  frankly.  "  But  you  might,  at  least,  have 
washed  your  face  and  fixed  your  hair." 

She  flashed  one  angry  glance  at  him,  stopping  in 
the  middle  of  the  road,  her  head  flung  back  as  though 
ready  for  battle.  Then,  as  if  by  some  swift  magic  of 
emotion,  her  expression  changed.  "And  so  you're 
ashamed  of  me,  are  you  ?"  she  asked,  her  voice  sharp 
but  unsteady.  "  Ashamed  to  be  seen  walking  with 
me  ?  Darn  it !  I  know  you  are !  But  I  tell  you,  Mr. 
Bob  Hampton,  you  won't  be  the  next  time.  And 
what's  more,  you  just  don't  need  to  traipse  along 

[86] 


"I'VE     COME     HERE     TO     LIVE" 

another  step  with  me  now.  I  don't  want  you.  I 
reckon  I  ain't  very  much  afraid  of  tackling  this 
Presbyterian  woman  all  alone." 

She  swung  off  fiercely,  and  the  man  chuckled 
softly  as  he  followed,  watchfully,  through  the  circling, 
red  dust  cloud  created  by  her  hasty  feet.  The  truth 
is,  Mr.  Hampton  possessed  troubles  and  scruples  of 
his  own  in  connection  with  this  contemplated  call. 
He  had  never  met  the  lady ;  indeed,  he  could  recall 
very  few  of  her  sex,  combining  respectability  and 
refinement,  whom  he  had  met  during  the  past  ten 
years.  But  he  retained  some  memory  of  the  husband 
as  having  been  associated  with  a  strenuous  poker  game 
at  Placer,  in  which  he  also  held  a  prominent  place, 
and  it  would  seem  scarcely  possible  that  the  wife  did 
not  know  whose  bullet  had  turned  her  for  some  weeks 
into  a  sick-nurse.  For  Herndon  he  had  not  even  a 
second  thought,  but  the  possible  ordeal  of  a  woman's 
tongue  was  another  matter.  A  cordial  reception 
could  hardly  be  anticipated,  and  Hampton  mentally 
braced  himself  for  the  worst. 

There  were  some  other  things,  also,  but  these  he 
brushed  aside  for  the  present.  He  was  not  the  sort 
of  man  to  wear  his  heart  upon  his  sleeve,  and  all 
his  life  long  he  had  fought  out  his  more  serious 
battles  in  loneliness  and  silence.  Now  he  had 
work  to  accomplish  in  the  open;  he  was  going  to 
stay  with  the  Kid  —  after  that,  quicn  sabe?  So  he 
smiled  somewhat  soberly,  swore  softly  to  himself,  and 
strode  on.  He  had  never  yet  thrown  down  his 
cards  merely  because  luck  had  taken  a  bad  turn. 

[87] 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF      PLACER 

It  was  a  cheerless-looking  house,  painted  a  garish 
yellow,  having  staring  windows,  and  devoid  of  a  front 
porch,  or  slightest  attempt  at  shade  to  render  its 
uncomely  front  less  unattractive.  Hampton  could 
scarcely  refrain  from  forming  a  mental  picture  of  the 
woman  who  would  most  naturally  preside  within  so 
unpolished  an  abode — an  angular,  hard-featured, 
vinegar-tempered  creature,  firm  settled  in  her 
prejudices  and  narrowed  by  her  creed.  Had  the 
matter  been  left  at  that  moment  to  his  own  deci 
sion,  this  glimpse  of  the  house  would  have  turned 
them  both  back,  but  the  girl  unhesitatingly  pressed 
forward  and  turned  defiantly  in  through  the  gate- 
less  opening.  He  followed  in  silence  along  the 
narrow  foot-path  bordered  by  weeds,  and  stood  back 
while  she  stepped  boldly  up  on  the  rude  stone 
slab  and  rapped  sharply  against  the  warped  and 
sagging  door.  A  moment  they  stood  thus  waiting 
with  no  response  from  within.  Once  she  glanced 
suspiciously  around  at  him,  only  to  wheel  back 
instantly  and  once  more  apply  her  knuckles  to 
the  wood.  Before  he  had  conjured  up  something 
worth  saying  the  door  was  partially  opened,  and 
a  rounded  dumpling  of  a  woman,  having  rosy 
cheeks,  her  hair  iron-gray,  her  blue  eyes  half  smiling 
in  uncertain  welcome,  looked  out  upon  them 
questioningly. 

"  I  Ve  come  to  live  here,"  announced  the  girl, 
sullenly.  "  That  is,  if  I  like  it.  " 

The  woman  continued  to  gaze  at  her,  as  if 
tempted  to  laugh  outright ;  then  the  pleasant  blue 

[88] 


"I'VE      COME      HERE      TO      LIVE" 

eyes  hardened  as  their  vision  swept  beyond  toward 
Hampton. 

"It  is  extremely  kind  of  you,  I  'm  sure/'  she  said 
at  last.  "  Why  is  it  I  am  to  be  thus  honored  ? " 

The  girl  backed  partially  off  the  doorstep,  her 
hair  flapping  in  the  wind,  her  cheeks  flushed. 

"  Oh,  you  need  n't  put  on  so  much  style  about  it," 
she  blurted  out.  "You  're  Mrs.  Herndon,  ain't  you  ? 
Well,  then,  this  is  the  place  where  I  was  sent ;  but  I 
reckon  you  ain't  no  more  particular  about  it  than  I 
am.  There 's  others." 

"  Who  sent  you  to  me  ?  "  and  Mrs.  Herndon  came 
forth  into  the  sunshine. 

"  The  preacher." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wynkoop;  then  you  must  be  the 
homeless  girl  whom  Lieutenant  Brant  brought  in  the 
other  day.  Why  did  you  not  say  so  at  first  ?  You 
may  come  in,  my  child." 

There  was  .a  sympathetic  tenderness  apparent  now 
in  the  tones  of  her  voice,  which  the  girl  was  swift  to 
perceive  and  respond  to,  yet  she  held  back,  her 
independence  unshaken.  With  the  quick  intuition 
of  a  woman,  Mrs.  Herndon  bent  down,  placing  one 
hand  on  the  defiant  shoulder. 

"  I  did  not  understand,  at  first,  my  dear,"  she  said, 
soothingly,  "or  I  should  never  have  spoken  as  I  did. 
Some  very  strange  callers  come  here.  But  you  are 
truly  welcome.  I  had  a  daughter  once;  she  must 
have  been  nearly  your  age  when  God  took  her. 
Won't  you  come  in  ?  " 

While    thus    speaking    she    never    once    glanced 

[89] 


BOB     HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

toward  the  man  standing  in  silence  beyond,  yet  as 
the  two  passed  through  the  doorway  together  he  fol 
lowed,  unasked.  Once  within  the  plainly  furnished 
room,  and  with  her  arm  about  the  girl's  waist, 
the  lines  about  her  mouth  hardened.  "I  do  not 
recall  extending  my  invitation  to  you,"  she  said, 

coldly. 

He  remained  standing,  hat  in  hand,  his  face 
shadowed,  his  eyes  picturing  deep  perplexity. 

"For  the  intrusion  I  offer  my  apology,"  he 
replied,  humbly;  "but  you  see  I  — I  feel  respon 
sible  for  this  young  woman.  She  —  sort  of  fell  to  my 
care  when  none  of  her  own  people  were  left  to  look 
after  her.  I  only  came  to  show  her  the  way,  and  to 
say  that  I  stand  ready  to  pay  you  well  to  see  to  her 
a  bit,  and  show  her  how  to  get  hold  of  the  right 
things." 

"Indeed!"  and  Mrs.  Herndon's  voice  was  not 
altogether  pleasant.  "  I  understood  she  was  entirely 
alone  and  friendless.  Are  you  that  man  who  brought 
her  out  of  the  canyon  ?  " 

Hampton  bowed  as  though  half  ashamed  of 
acknowledging  the  act. 

"  Oh  !  then  I  know  who  you  are,"  she  continued, 
unhesitatingly.  "  You  are  a  gambler  and  a  bar-room 
rough.  I  won't  touch  a  penny  of  your  money.  I  told 
Mr.  Wynkoop  that  I  shouldn't,  but  that  I  would 
endeavor  to  do  my  Christian  duty  by  this  poor  girl. 
He  was  to  bring  her  here  himself,  and  keep  you 

away." 

The    man    smiled     slightly,     not     in     the    least 

[90] 


"I'VE     COME      HERE     TO     LIVE" 

t 

disconcerted  by  her  plain  speech.  The  cutting  words 
merely  served  to  put  him  on  his  mettle.  "  Probably 
we  departed  from  the  hotel  somewhat  earlier  than  the 
minister  anticipated,"  he  explained,  quietly,  his 
old  ease  of  manner  returning  in  face  of  such  open 
opposition.  cc  I  greatly  regret  your  evident  prejudice, 
madam,  and  can  only  say  that  I  have  more  confidence 
in  you  than  you  appear  to  have  in  me.  I  shall 
certainly  discover  some  means  by  which  I  may  do  my 
part  in  shaping  this  girl's  future,  but  in  the  meanwhile 
will  relieve  you  of  my  undesired  presence." 

He  stepped  without  into  the  glare  of  the  sunlight, 
feeling  utterly  careless  as  to  the  woman  who  had 
affronted  him,  yet  somewhat  hurt  on  seeing  that  the 
girl  had  not  once  lifted  her  downcast  eyes  to  his 
face.  Yet  he  had  scarcely  taken  three  steps  toward 
the  road  before  she  was  beside  him,  her  hand  upon 
his  sleeve. 

"I  won't  stay!"  she  exclaimed,  fiercely,  "I  won't, 
Bob  Hampton.  I  'd  rather  go  with  you  than  be 
good." 

His  sensitive  face  flushed  with  delight,  but  he 
looked  gravely  down  into  her  indignant  eyes.  "  Oh, 
yes,  you  will,  Kid,"  and  his  hand  touched  her 
roughened  hair  caressingly.  "She's  a  good,  kind 
woman,  all  right,  and  I  don't  blame  her  for  not  liking 
my  style." 

"  Do  —  do  you  really  want  me  to  stick  it  out  here, 
Bob?" 

It  was  no  small  struggle  for  him  to  say  so,  for  he 
was  beginning  to  comprehend  just  what  this  separation 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

meant.  She  was  more  to  him  than  he  had  ever 
supposed,  more  to  him  than  she  had  been  even  an 
hour  before ;  and  now  he  understood  clearly  that  from 
this  moment  they  must  ever  run  farther  apart — her 
life  tending  upward,  his  down.  Yet  there  was  but 
one  decision  possible.  A  life  which  is  lonely  and 
dissatisfied,  a  wasted  life,  never  fully  realizes  how 
lonely,  dissatisfied,  and  wasted  it  is  until  some  new  life, 
beautiful  in  young  hope  and  possibility,  comes  into 
contact  with  it.  For  a  single  instant  Hampton  toyed 
with  the  temptation  confronting  him,  this  opportunity 
of  brightening  his  own  miserable  future  by  means  of 
her  degradation.  Then  he  answered,  his  voice  grown 
almost  harsh.  "  This  is  your  best  chance,  little  girl, 
and  I  want  you  to  stay  and  fight  it  out." 

Their  eyes  met,  each  dimly  realizing,  although  in 
a  totally  different  way,  that  here  was  a  moment  of 
important  decision.  Mrs.  Herndon  darkened  the 
doorway,  and  stood  looking  out. 

"Well,  Mr.  Bob  Hampton,"  she  questioned, 
plainly,  "  what  is  this  going  to  be  ? " 

He  glanced  toward  her,  slightly  lifting  his  hat, 
and  promptly  releasing  the  girl's  clinging  hand. 

"  Miss  Gillis  consents  to  remain,"  he  announced 
shortly,  and,  denying  himself  so  much  as  another 
glance  at  his  companion,  strode  down  the  narrow  path 
to  the  road.  A  moment  the  girl's  eyes  followed  him 
through  the  dust  cloud,  a  single  tear  stealing  down 
her  cheek.  Only  a  short  week  ago  she  had  utterly 
despised  this  man,  now  he  had  become  truly  more  to 
her  than  any  one  else  in  the  wide,  wide  world.  She 


"I'VE     COME     HERE     TO     LIVE" 

did  not  in  the  least  comprehend  the  mystery ;  indeed, 
it  was  no  mystery,  merely  the  simple  trust  of  a  child 
naturally  responding  to  the  first  unselfish  love  given 
it.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Herndon  dimly  understood,  for 
she  came  forth  quietly,  and  led  the  girl,  now  sobbing 
bitterly,  within  the  cool  shadows  of  the  house. 


[93] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  LAST  REVOLT 

IT  proved  a  restless  day,  and  a  sufficiently  unpleas 
ant  one,  for  Mr.  Hampton.  For  a  number  of 

years  he  had  been  diligently  training  himself  in 
the  school  of  cynicism,  endeavoring  to  persuade  him 
self  that  he  did  not  in  the  least  care  what  others 
thought,  nor  how  his  own  career  ended;  impelling  him 
self  to  constant  recklessness  in  life  and  thought.  He 
had  thus  successfully  built  up  a  wall  between  the  pres 
ent  and  that  past  which  long  haunted  his  lonely  mom 
ents,  and  had  finally  decided  that  it  was  hermetically 
sealed.  Yet  now,  this  odd  chit  of  a  girl,  this  waif 
whom  he  had  plucked  from  the  jaws  of  death,  had 
overturned  this  carefully  constructed  barrier  as  if  it 
had  been  originally  built  of  mere  cardboard,  and  he 
was  compelled  again  to  see  himself,  loathe  himself, 
just  as  he  had  in  those  past  years. 

Everything  had  been  changed  by  her  sudden  en 
trance  into  his  life,  everything  except  those  unfor 
tunate  conditions  which  still  bound  him  helpless. 
He  looked  upon  the  world  no  longer  through  his 
cool,  gray  eyes,  but  out  of  her  darker  ones,  and  the 
prospect  appeared  gloomy  enough.  He  thought  it 
all  over  again  and  again,  dwelling  in  reawakened  mem 
ory  upon  details  long  hidden  within  the  secret  recesses 
of  his  brain,  yet  so  little  came  from  this  searching 

[94] 


A      LAST      REVOLT 

survey  that  the  result  left  him  no  plan  for  the  future. 
He  had  wandered  too  far  away  from  home;  the  path 
leading  back  was  long  ago  overgrown  with  weeds,  and 
could  not  now  be  retraced.  One  thing  he  grasped 
clearly,  —  the  girl  should  be  given  her  chance ;  noth 
ing  in  his  life  must  ever  again  soil  her  or  lower  her 
ideals.  Mrs.  Herndon  was  right,  and  he  realized  it ; 
neither  his  presence  nor  his  money  were  fit  to  influence 
her  future.  He  swore  between  his  clinched  teeth,  his 
face  grown  haggard.  The  sun's  rays  bridged  the  slow 
ly  darkening  valley  with  cords  of  red  gold,  and  the 
man  pulled  himself  to  his  feet  by  gripping  the  root 
of  a  tree.  He  realized  that  he  had  been  sitting  there 
for  hours,  and  that  he  was  hungry. 

Down  beneath,  amid  the  fast  awakening  noise  and 
bustle  of  early  evening,  the  long  discipline  of  the 
gambler  reasserted  itself — he  got  back  his  nerve.  It 
was  Bob  Hampton,  cool,  resourceful,  sarcastic  of 
speech,  quick  of  temper,  who  greeted  the  loungers 
about  the  hotel,  and  who  sat,  with  his  back  to  the 
wall,  in  the  little  dining-room,  watchful  of  all  others 
present.  And  it  was  Bob  Hampton  who  strolled 
carelessly  out  upon  the  darkened  porch  an  hour 
later,  leaving  a  roar  of  laughter  behind  him,  and  an 
enemy  as  well.  Little  he  cared  for  that,  however, 
in  his  present  mood,  and  he  stood  there,  amid 
the  black  shadows,  looking  contemptuously  down 
upon  the  stream  of  coatless  humanity  trooping  past 
on  pleasure  bent,  the  blue  smoke  circling  his  head, 
his  gray  eyes  glowing  half  angrily.  Suddenly  he 
leaned  forward,  clutching  the  rail  in  quick  •urprise. 

[95] 


BOB     HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

"  Kid,"  he  exclaimed,  harshly,  "  what  does  this 
mean  ?  What  are  you  doing  alone  here  ?  " 

She  stopped  instantly  and  glanced  up,  her  face 
flushing  in  the  light  streaming  forth  from  the  open 
door  of  the  Occidental. 

"  I  reckon  I  'm  alone  here  because  I  want  to  be," 
she  returned,  defiantly.  cc  I  ain't  no  slave.  How  do 
you  get  up  there  ?  " 

He  extended  his  hand,  and  drew  her  up  beside 
him  into  the  shaded  corner.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  tell 
me  the  truth." 

"  I  Ve  quit,  that 's  all,  Bob.  I  just  could  n't  stand 
for  reform  any  longer,  and  so  I  Ve  come  back  here  to 
you." 

The  man  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  Did  n't  you  like 
Mrs.  Herndon?" 

"  Oh,  she  's  all  right  enough,  so  far  as  that  goes. 
'T  ain't  that ;  only  I  just  did  n't  like  some  things  she 
said  and  did." 

"  Kid,"  and  Hampton  straightened  up,  his  voice 
growing  stern.  "  I  Ve  got  to  know  the  straight  of 
this.  You  say  you  like  Mrs.  Herndon  well  enough, 
but  not  some  other  things.  What  were  they  ?  " 

The  girl  hesitated,  drawing  back  a  little  from  him 
until  the  light  from  the  saloon  fell  directly  across  her 
face.  "  Well,"  she  declared,  slowly,  "  you  see  it  had 
to  be  either  her  or  —  or  you,  Bob,  and  I  'd  rather  it 
would  be  you." 

"You  mean  she  said  you  would  have  to  cut  me 
out  entirely  if  you  stayed  there  with  her  ? " 

She  nodded,  her  eyes  filled  with  entreaty.     "  Yes, 

[96] 


A      LAST      REVOLT 

that  was  about  it.  I  was  n't  ever  to  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  you,  not  even  to  speak  to  you  if 
we  met  —  and  after  you  'd  saved  my  life,  too." 

"Never  mind  about  that  little  affair,  Kid,"  and 
Hampton  rested  his  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder. 
"That  was  all  in  the  day's  work,  and  hardly  counts 
for  much  anyhow.  Was  that  all  she  said  ?  " 

"  She  called  you  a  low-down  gambler,  a  gun- 
fighter,  a  —  a  miserable  bar-room  thug,  a  —  a  mur 
derer.  She  —  she  said  that  if  I  ever  dared  to  speak 
to  you  again,  Bob  Hampton,  that  I  could  leave  her 
house.  I  just  could  n't  stand  for  that,  so  I  came 
away." 

Hampton  never  stirred,  his  teeth  set  deep  into 
his  cigar,  his  hands  clinched  about  the  railing.  "  The 
fool!"  he  muttered  half  aloud,  then  caught  his 
breath  quickly.  "  Now  see  here,  Kid,"  and  he  turned 
her  about  so  that  he  might  look  down  into  her  eyes,, 
"  I  'm  mighty  glad  you  like  me  well  enough  to  put  up 
a  kick,  but  if  all  this  is  true  about  me,  why  should  n't 
she  say  it?  Do  you  believe  that  sort  of  a  fellow 
would  prove  a  very  good  kind  to  look  after  a  young 
lady  ? " 

"  I  ain't  a  young  lady !  " 

"  No ;  well,  you  're  going  to  be  if  I  have  my  way, 
and  I  don't  believe  the  sort  of  a  gent  described  would 
be  very  apt  to  help  you  much  in  getting  there." 

"You  ain't  all  that." 

"  Well,  perhaps  not.  Like  an  amateur  artist, 
madam  may  have  laid  the  colors  on  a  little  thick. 
But  I  am  no  winged  angel,  Kid,  nor  exactly  a  model 

[97] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

for  you  to  copy  after.     I  reckon  you  better  stick  to 
the  woman,  and  cut  me." 

She  did  not  answer,  yet  he  read  an  unchanged  pur 
pose  in  her  eyes,  and  his  own  decision  strengthened. 
Some  instinct  led  him  to  do  the  right  thing ;  he  drew 
forth  the  locket  from  beneath  the  folds  of  her  dress, 
holding  it  open  to  the  light.  He  noticed  now  a  name 
engraven  on  the  gold  case,  and  bent  lower  to  decipher  it. 

"  Was  her  name  Naida  ?    It  is  an  uncommon  word." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  yours  also  ? " 

"  Yes." 

Their  eyes  met,  and  those  of  both  had  perceptibly 
softened. 

"  Naida,"  his  lips  dwelt  upon  the  peculiar  name 
as  though  he  loved  the  sound.  "  I  want  you  to  listen 
to  me,  child.  I  sincerely  wish  I  might  keep  you  here 
with  me,  but  I  can't.  You  are  more  to  me  than  you 
dream,  but  it  would  not  be  right  for  me  thus  deliber 
ately  to  sacrifice  your  whole  future  to  my  pleasure.  I 
possess  nothing  to  offer  you,  —  no  home,  no  friends, 
no  reputation.  Practically  I  am  an  outlaw,  existing 
by  my  wits,  disreputable  in  the  eyes  of  those  who 
are  worthy  to  live  in  the  world.  She,  who  was  your 
mother,  would  never  wish  you  to  remain  with  me. 
She  would  say  I  did  right  in  giving  you  up  into  the 
care  of  a  good  woman.  Naida,  look  on  that  face  in  the 
locket,  your  mother's  face.  It  is  sweet,  pure,  beauti 
ful,  the  face  of  a  good,  true  woman.  Living  or  dead, 
it  must  be  the  prayer  of  those  lips  that  you  become  a 
good  woman  also.  She  should  lead  you,  not  I,  for  I 

[98] 


A     LAST     REVOLT 

am  unworthy.  For  her  sake,  and  in  her  name,  I  ask 
you  to  go  back  to  Mrs.  Herndon." 

He  could  perceive  the  gathering  tears  in  her  eyes, 
and  his  hand  closed  tightly  about  her  own.  It  was 
not  one  soul  alone  that  struggled. 

"You  will  go?" 

"  O  Bob,  I  wish  you  wasn't  a  gambler !" 

A  moment  he  remained  silent.  "  But  unfortu 
nately  I  am,"  he  admitted,  soberly,  "  and  it  is  best 
for  you  to  go  back.  Won't  you  ?  " 

Her  gaze  was  fastened  upon  the  open  locket,  the 
fair  face  pictured  there  smiling  up  at  her  as  though  in 
pleading  also. 

"  You  truly  think  she  would  wish  it  ? " 

"  I  know  she  would." 

The  girl  gave  utterance  to  a  quick,  startled  breath, 
as  if  the  vision  frightened  her.  "  Then  I  will  go," 
she  said,  her  voice  a  mere  whisper,  "  I  will  go." 

He  led  her  down  the  steps,  out  into  the  jostling 
crowd  below,  as  if  she  had  been  some  fairy  princess. 
Men  occasionally  spoke  to  him,  but  seemingly  he 
heard  nothing,  pressing  his  way  through  the  mass  of 
moving  figures  in  utter  unconsciousness  of  their  pres 
ence.  Her  locket  hung  dangling,  and  he  slipped  it 
back  into  its  place  and  drew  her  slender  form  yet 
closer  against  his  own,  as  they  stepped  forth  into  the 
black,  deserted  road.  Once,  in  the  last  faint  ray  of 
light  which  gleamed  from  the  windows  of  the  Miners' 
Retreat,  she  glanced  up  shyly  into  his  face.  It  was 
white  and  hard  set,  and  she  did  not  venture  to  break 
the  silence.  Half-way  up  the  gloomy  ravine  they 

[99] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

met  a  man  and  woman  coming  along  the  narrow  path. 
Hampton  drew  her  aside  out  of  their  way,  then  spoke 
coldly. 

"  Mrs.  Herndon,  were  you  seeking  your  lost 
charge  ?  I  have  her  here." 

The  two  passing  figures  halted,  peering  through 
the  darkness. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  It  was  the  gruff  voice  of  the 
man. 

Hampton  stepped  out  directly  in  his  path. 
"  Herndon,"  he  said,  calmly,  "you  and  I  have  clashed 
once  before,  and  the  less  you  have  to  say  to-night  the 
better.  I  am  in  no  mood  for  trifling,  and  this  hap 
pens  to  be  your  wife's  affair." 

u  Madam,"  and  he  lifted  his  hat,  holding  it  in  his 
hand,  "  I  am  bringing  back  the  runaway,  and  she  has 
now  pledged  herself  to  remain  with  you." 

"I  was  not  seeking  her,"  she  returned,  icily.  "I 
have  no  desire  to  cultivate  the  particular  friends  of 
Mr.  Hampton." 

"So  I  have  understood,  and  consequently  relin 
quish  here  and  now  all  claims  upon  Miss  Gillis.  She 
has  informed  me  of  your  flattering  opinion  regarding 
me,  and  I  have  indorsed  it  as  being  mainly  true  to 
life.  Miss  Gillis  has  been  sufficiently  shocked  at  thus 
discovering  my  real  character,  and  now  returns  in  pen 
itence  to  be  reared  according  to  the  admonitions  of 
the  Presbyterian  faith.  Do  I  state  this  fairly,  Naida?" 

"I  have  come  back,"  she    faltered,  fingering  the 
chain  at  her  throat,  "  I  have  come  back." 
.       "Without  Bob  Hampton?" 

[TOO] 


A      LAST      REVOLT 

The  girl  glanced  uneasily  toward- hiih,'but  he  stood 
motionless  in  the  gloom. 

"Yes  —  I  —  I  suppose  I  must." 

Hampton  rested  his  hand  softly  upon  her  shoul 
der,  his  fingers  trembling,  although  his  voice  remained 
coldly  deliberate. 

"  I  trust  this  is  entirely  satisfactory,  Mrs.  Hern- 
don/'  he  said.  "  I  can  assure  you  I  know  absolutely 
nothing  regarding  her  purpose  of  coming  to  me  to 
night.  I  realize  quite  clearly  my  own  deficiencies, 
and  pledge  myself  hereafter  not  to  interfere  with  you 
in  any  way.  You  accept  the  trust,  I  believe?" 

She  gave  utterance  to  a  deep  sigh  of  resignation. 
"It  comes  to  me  clearly  as  a  Christian  duty,"  she 
acknowledged,  doubtfully,  "and  I  suppose  I  must  take 
up  my  cross;  but— 

"But  you  have  doubts,"  he  interrupted.     "Well, 
I  have  none,  for  I  have  greater  faith  in  the  girl,  and— 
perhaps  in  God.     Good-night,  Naida." 

He  bowed  above  the  hand  the  girl  gave  him  in  the 
darkness,  and  ever  after  she  believed  he  bent  lower, 
and  pressed  his  lips  upon  it.  The  next  moment 
the  black  night  had  closed  him  out,  and  she  stood 
there,  half  frightened  at  she  knew  not  what,  on  the 
threshold  of  her  new  life. 


[101] 


CHAPTER  IX 

AT  THE  OCCIDENTAL 

HAMPTON  slowly  picked  his  way  back  through 
the  darkness  down  the  silent  road,  his  only 
guide  those  dim  yellow  lights  flickering  in  the 
distance.  He  walked  soberly,  his  head  bent  slightly 
forward,  absorbed  in  thought.  Suddenly  he  paused, 
and  swore  savagely,  his  disgust  at  the  situation  burst 
ing  all  bounds;  yet  when  he  arrived  opposite  the 
beam  of  light  streaming  invitingly  forth  from  the 
windows  of  the  first  saloon,  he  was  whistling  softly, 
his  head  held  erect,  his  cool  eyes  filled  with  reckless 
daring. 

It  was  Saturday  night,  and  the  mining  town  was 
already  alive.  The  one  long,  irregular  street  was 
jammed  with  constantly  moving  figures,  the  numerous 
saloons  ablaze,  the  pianos  sounding  noisily,  the  shuf 
fling  of  feet  in  the  crowded  dance-halls  incessant. 
Fakers  were  everywhere  industriously  hawking  their 
useless  wares  and  entertaining  the  loitering  crowds, 
while  the  roar  of  voices  was  continuous.  Cowboys 
from  the  wide  plains,  miners  from  the  hidden  gulches, 
ragged,  hopeful  prospectors  from  the  more  distant 
mountains,  teamsters,  and  half-naked  Indians,  com 
mingled  in  the  restless  throng,  passing  and  repassing 
from  door  to  door,  careless  in  dress,  rough  in  manner, 
boisterous  in  language.  Here  and  there  amid  this 


AT      THE      OCCIDENTAL 

heterogeneous  population  of  toilers  and  adventurers, 
would  appear  those  attired  in  the  more  conventional 
garb  of  the  East,  —  capitalists  hunting  new  invest 
ments,  or  chance  travellers  seeking  to  discover  a  new 
thrill  amid  this  strange  life  of  the  frontier.  Every 
where,  brazen  and  noisy,  flitted  women,  bold  of  eye, 
painted  of  cheek,  gaudy  of  raiment,  making  mock  of 
their  sacred  womanhood.  Riot  reigned  unchecked, 
while  the  quiet,  sleepy  town  of  the  afternoon  blos 
somed  under  the  flickering  lights  into  a  saturnalia  of 
unlicensed  pleasure,  wherein  the  wages  of  sin  were 
death. 

Hampton  scarcely  noted  this  marvellous  change; 
to  him  it  was  no  uncommon  spectacle.  He  pushed 
his  way  through  the  noisy  throng  with  eyes  ever 
watchful  for  the  faces.  His  every  motion  was  that  of 
a  man  who  had  fully  decided  upon  his  course. 
Through  the  widely  opened  doors  of  the  Occidental 
streams  of  blue  and  red  shirted  men  were  constantly 
flowing  in  and  out;  a  band  played  strenuously  on  the 
wide  balcony  overhead,  while  beside  the  entrance  a 
loud-voiced  "barker"  proclaimed  the  many  attractions 
within.  Hampton  swung  up  the  broad  wooden  steps 
and  entered  the  bar-room,  which  was  crowded  by 
jostling  figures,  the  ever-moving  mass  as  yet  good- 
natured,  for  the  night  was  young.  At  the  lower  end 
of  the  long,  sloppy  bar  he  stopped  for  a  moment  to 
nod  to  the  fellow  behind. 

"Anything  going  on  to-night  worth  while,  Jim?0 
he  questioned,  quietly. 

"Rather  stiff  game,  they  tell  me,  just  started  in  the 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

back  room,"  was  the  genial  reply.  "Two  Eastern 
suckers,  with  Red  Slavin  sitting  in." 

The  gambler  passed  on,  pushing  rather  uncere 
moniously  through  the  throng  of  perspiring  humanity. 
He  appeared  out  of  place  amid  the  rough  element 
jostling  him,  and  more  than  one  glanced  at  him 
curiously,  a  few  swearing  as  he  elbowed  them  aside. 
Scarcely  noticing  this,  he  drew  a  cigar  from  his  pocket, 
and  stuck  it  unlighted  between  his  teeth.  The  large 
front  room  upstairs  was  ablaze  with  lights,  every  game 
in  full  operation  and  surrounded  by  crowds  of 
devotees.  Tobacco  smoke  in  clouds  circled  to  the 
low  ceiling,  and  many  of  the  players  were  noisy  and 
profane,  while  the  various  calls  of  faro,  roulette,  keno, 
and  high-ball  added  to  the  confusion  and  to  the  din 
of  shuffling  feet  and  excited  exclamations .  Hampton 
glanced  about  superciliously,  shrugging  his  shoulders 
in  open  contempt — all  this  was  far  too  coarse,  too 
small,  to  awaken  his  interest.  He  observed  the 
various  faces  at  the  tables  —  a  habit  one  naturally 
forms  who  has  desperate  enemies  in  plenty  —  and  then 
walked  directly  toward  the  rear  of  the  room.  A 
thick,  dingy  red  curtain  hung  there ;  he  held  back  its 
heavy  folds  and  stepped  within  the  smaller  apartment 
beyond. 

Three  men  sat  at  the  single  table,  cards  in  hand, 
and  Hampton  involuntarily  whistled  softly  behind 
his  teeth  at  the  first  glimpse  of  the  money  openly  dis 
played  before  them.  This  was  apparently  not  so  bad 
for  a  starter,  and  his  waning  interest  revived.  A  red- 
bearded  giant,  sitting  so  as  to  face  the  doorway, 

[104] 


AT     THE      OCCIDENTAL 

glanced  up  quickly  at  his  entrance,  his  coarse  mouth 
instantly  taking  on  the  semblance  of  a  smile. 

"Ah,  Bob,"  he  exclaimed,  with  an  evident  effort 
at  cordiality;  "been  wondering  if  you  wouldn't  show 
up  before  the  night  was  over.  You  're  the  very  fellow 
to  make  this  a  four-handed  affair,  provided  you  carry 
sufficient  stuff." 

Hampton  came  easily  forward  into  the  full  glow 
of  the  swinging  oil  lamp,  his  manner  coolly  deliberate, 
his  face  expressionless.  "  I  feel  no  desire  to  intrude," 
he  explained,  quietly,  watching  the  uplifted  faces.  "  I 
believe  I  have  never  before  met  these  gentlemen." 

Slavin  laughed,  his  great  white  fingers  drumming 
the  table. 

"It  is  an  acquaintance  easily  made,"  he  said, 
"  provided  one  can  afford  to  trot  in  their  class,  for 
it  is  money  that  talks  at  this  table  to-night.  Mr. 
Hampton,  permit  me  to  present  Judge  Hawes,  of 
Denver,  and  Mr.  Edgar  Willis,  president  of  the  T. 
P.  &  R.  I  have  no  idea  what  they  are  doing  in  this 
hell-hole  of  a  town,  but  they  are  dead-game  sports, 
and  I  have  been  trying  my  best  to  amuse  them  while 
they're  here." 

Hampton  bowed,  instantly  recognizing  the  names. 

"  Glad  to  assist,"  he  murmured,  sinking  into  a 
vacant  chair.  "  What  limit?  " 

"We  have  had  no  occasion  to  discuss  that  matter 
as  yet,"  volunteered  Hawes,  sneeringly.  "  However, 
if  you  have  scruples  we  might  settle  upon  something 
within  reason." 

Hampton  ran  the  undealt  pack  carelessly  through 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

his  fingers,  his  lips  smiling  pleasantly.  "Oh,  never 
mind,  if  it  chances  to  go  above  my  pile  I  '11  drop  out. 
Meanwhile,  I  hardly  believe  there  is  any  cause  for 
you  to  be  modest  on  my  account." 

The  play  opened  quietly  and  with  some  restraint, 
the  faces  of  the  men  remaining  impassive,  their 
watchful  glances  evidencing  nothing  either  of  success 
or  failure.  Hampton  played  with  extreme  caution 
for  some  time,  his  eyes  studying  keenly  the  others 
about  the  table,  seeking  some  deeper  understand 
ing  of  the  nature  of  his  opponents,  their  strong  and 
weak  points,  and  whether  or  not  there  existed  any 
prior  arrangement  between  them.  He  was  there 
for  a  purpose,  a  clearly  defined  purpose,  and  he 
felt  no  inclination  to  accept  unnecessary  chances 
with  the  fickle  Goddess  of  Fortune.  To  one 
trained  in  the  calm  observation  of  small  things, 
and  long  accustomed  to  weigh  his  adversaries 
with  care,  it  was  not  extremely  difficult  to  class 
the  two  strangers,  and  Hampton  smiled  softly  on 
observing  the  size  of  the  rolls  rather  ostentatiously 
exhibited  by  them.  He  felt  that  his  lines  had 
fallen  in  pleasant  places,  and  looked  forward  with 
serene  confidence  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  royal  game, 
provided  only  he  exercised  sufficient  patience  and 
the  other  gentlemen  possessed  the  requisite  nerve. 
His  satisfaction  was  in  noways  lessened  by  the 
sound  of  their  voices,  when  incautiously  raised 
in  anger  over  some  unfortunate  play.  He  im 
mediately  recognized  them  as  the  identical  individuals 
who  had  loudly  and  vainly  protested  over  his 

[106] 


AT      THE      OCCIDENTAL 

occupancy  of  the  best  rooms  at  the  hotel.  He 
chuckled  grimly. 

But  what  bothered  him  particularly  was  Slavin. 
The  cool  gray  eyes,  glancing  with  such  apparent 
negligence  across  the  cards  in  his  hands,  noted  every 
slight  movement  of  the  red-bearded  gambler,  in 
expectation  of  detecting  some  sign  of  trickery, 
or  some  evidence  that  he  had  been  selected  by  this 
precious  trio  for  the  purpose  of  easy  plucking. 
Knavery  was  Slavin's  style,  but  apparently  he  was  now 
playing  a  straight  game,  no  doubt  realizing  clearly, 
behind  his  impassive  mask  of  a  face,  the  utter  futility 
of  seeking  to  outwit  one  of  Hampton's  enviable 
reputation. 

It  was,  unquestionably,  a  fairly  fought  four-handed 
battle,  and  at  last,  thoroughly  convinced  of  this, 
Hampton  settled  quietly  down,  prepared  to  play  out 
his  game.  The  hours  rolled  on  unnoted,  the  men 
tireless,  their  faces  immovable,  the  cards  dealt  silently. 
The  stakes  grew  steadily  larger,  and  curious  visitors, 
hearing  vague  rumors  without,  ventured  in,  to  stand 
behind  the  chairs  of  the  absorbed  players  and  look  on. 
Now  and  then  a  startled  exclamation  evidenced  the 
depth  of  their  interest  and  excitement,  but  at  the  table 
no  one  spoke  above  a  strained  whisper,  and  no  eye 
ventured  to  wander  from  the  board.  Several  times 
drinks  were  served,  but  Hampton  contented  himself 
with  a  gulp  of  water,  always  gripping  an  unlighted 
cigar  between  his  teeth.  He  was  playing  now  with 
apparent  recklessness,  never  hesitating  over  a  card,  his 
eye  as  watchful  as  that  of  a  hawk,  his  betting  quick, 

[107] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

confident,  audacious.  The  contagion  of  his  spirit 
seemed  to  affect  the  others,  to  force  them  into 
desperate  wagers,  and  thrill  the  lookers-on.  The 
perspiration  was  beading  Slavin's  forehead,  and  now 
and  then  an  oath  burst  unrestrained  from  his  hairy 
lips.  Hawes  and  Willis  sat  white-faced,  bent  forward 
anxiously  over  the  table,  their  fingers  shaking  as  they 
handled  the  fateful  cards,  but  Hampton  played 
without  perceptible  tremor,  his  utterances  few  and 
monosyllabic,  his  calm  face  betraying  not  the  faintest 
emotion. 

And  he  was  steadily  winning.  Occasionally  some 
other  hand  drew  in  the  growing  stock  of  gold  and 
bank  notes,  but  not  often  enough  to  offset  those  con 
tinued  gains  that  began  to  heap  up  in  such  an  alluring 
pile  upon  his  portion  of  the  table.  The  watchers 
began  to  observe  this,  and  gathered  more  closely  about 
his  chair,  fascinated  by  the  luck  with  which  the  cards 
came  floating  into  his  hands,  the  cool  judgment  of  his 
critical  plays,  the  reckless  abandon  with  which  he 
forced  success.  The  little  room  was  foul  with  tobacco 
smoke  and  electric  with  ill-repressed  excitement,  yet 
he  played  on  imperturbably,  apparently  hearing 
nothing,  seeing  nothing,  his  entire  personality  concen 
trated  on  his  play.  Suddenly  he  forced  the  fight  to  a 
finish.  The  opportunity  came  in  a  jack-pot  which 
Hawes  had  opened.  The  betting  began  with  a  cool 
thousand.  Then  Hampton's  turn  came.  Without 
drawing,  his  cards  yet  lying  face  downward  before 
him  on  the  board,  his  calm  features  as  immovable  as 
the  Sphinx,  he  quietly  pushed  his  whole  accumulated 

[108] 


AT      THE      OCCIDENTAL 

pile  to  the  centre,  named  the  sum,  and  leaned  back  in 
his  chair,  his  eyes  cold,  impassive.  Hawes  threw 
down  his  hand,  wiping  his  streaming  face  with  his 
handkerchief;  Willis  counted  his  remaining  roll,  hesi 
tated,  looked  again  at  the  faces  of  his  cards,  flung 
aside  two,  drawing  to  fill,  and  called  loudly  for  a 
show-down,  his  eyes  protruding.  Slavin,  cursing 
fiercely  under  his  red  beard,  having  drawn  one  card, 
his  perplexed  face  instantly  brightening  as  he  glanced 
at  it,  went  back  into  his  hip  pocket  for  every  cent  he 
had,  and  added  his  profane  demand  for  a  chance  at 
the  money. 

A  fortune  rested  on  the  table,  a  fortune  the 
ownership  of  which  was  to  be  decided  in  a  single 
moment,  and  by  the  movement  of  a  hand.  The 
crowd  swayed  eagerly  forward,  their  heads  craned  over 
to  see  more  clearly,  their  breathing  hushed.  Willis 
was  gasping,  his  whole  body  quivering;  Slavin  was 
Y'/n'ching  Hampton's  hands  as  a  cat  does  a  mouse,  his 
thick  lips  parted,  his  fingers  twitching  nervously.  The 
latter  smiled  grimly,  his  motions  deliberate,  his  eyes 
never  wavering.  Slowly,  one  by  one,  he  turned  up 
his  cards,  never  even  deigning  to  glance  downward, 
his  entire  manner  that  of  unstudied  indifference. 
One  —  two — three.  Willis  uttered  a  snarl  like  a 
stricken  wild  beast,  and  sank  back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes 
closed,  his  cheeks  ghastly.  Four.  Slavin  brought 
down  his  great  clenched  fist  with  a  crash  on  the  table, 
a  string  of  oaths  bursting  unrestrained  from  his  lips. 
Five.  Hampton,  never  stirring  a  muscle,  sat  there 
like  a  statue,  watching.  His  right  hand  kept  hidden 

[109] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

beneath  the  table,  with  his  left  he  quietly  drew  in  the 
stack  of  bills  and  coin,  pushing  the  stuff  heedlessly 
into  the  side  pocket  of  his  coat,  his  gaze  never  once 
wandering  from  those  stricken  faces  fronting  him. 
Then  he  softly  pushed  back  his  chair  and  stood  erect. 
Willis  never  moved,  but  Slavin  rose  unsteadily  to  his 
feet,  gripping  the  table  fiercely  with  both  hands. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Hampton,  gravely,  his  clear 
voice  sounding  like  the  sudden  peal  of  a  bell,  cc  I  can 
only  thank  you  for  your  courtesy  in  this  matter,  and 
bid  you  all  good-night.  However,  before  I  go  it  may 
be  of  some  interest  for  me  to  say  that  I  have  played 
my  last  game." 

Somebody  laughed  sarcastically,  a  harsh,  hateful 
laugh.  The  speaker  whirled,  took  one  step  forward; 
there  was  the  flash  of  an  extended  arm,  a  dull  crunch, 
and  Red  Slavin  went  crashing  backward  against  the 
wall.  As  he  gazed  up,  dazed  and  bewildered,  from 
the  floor,  the  lights  glimmered  along  a  blue-steel 
barrel. 

"  Not  a  move,  you  red  brute,"  and  Hampton 
spurned  him  contemptuously  with  his  heel.  "This  is 
no  variety  show,  and  your  laughter  was  in  poor  taste. 
However,  if  you  feel  particularly  hilarious  to-night 
I'll  give  you  another  chance.  I  said  this  was  my  last 
game;  I'll  repeat  it  —  this  was  my  last  game!  Now, 
damn  you  !  if  you  feel  like  it,  laugh  !  " 

He  swept  the  circle  of  excited  faces,  his  eyes  glow 
ing  like  two  diamonds,  his  thin  lips  compressed  into  a 
single  straight  line. 

"  Mr.  Slavin  appears  to  have  lost  his  previous 
[no] 


AT     THE      OCCIDENTAL 

sense  of  humor,"  he  remarked,  calmly.  "  I  will  now 
make  my  statement  for  the  third  time  —  this  was  my 
last  game.  Perhaps  some  of  you  gentlemen  also  may 
discover  this  to  be  amusing." 

The  heavy,  strained  breathing  of  the  motionless 
crowd  was  his  only  answer,  and  a  half  smile  of  bitter 
contempt  curled  Hampton's  lips,  as  he  swept  over 
them  a  last  defiant  glance. 

"  Not  quite  so  humorous  as  it  seemed  to  be  at 
first,  I  reckon,"  he  commented,  dryly.  "  Slavin,"  and 
he  prodded  the  red  giant  once  more  with  his  foot, 
"I'm  going  out;  if  you  make  any  attempt  to  leave 
this  room  within  the  next  five  minutes  I  '11  kill  you  in 
your  tracks,  as  I  would  a  mad  dog.  You  stacked 
cards  twice  to-night,  but  the  last  time  I  beat  you  fairly 
at  your  own  game." 

He  held  aside  the  heavy  curtains  with  his  left  hand 
and  backed  slowly  out  facing  them,  the  deadly  re 
volver  shining  ominously  in  the  other.  Not  a  man 
moved ;  Slavin  glowered  at  him  from  the  floor,  an 
impotent  curse  upon  his  lips.  Then  the  red  drapery 
fell. 

While  the  shadows  of  the  long  night  still  hung 
over  the  valley,  Naida,  tossing  restlessly  upon  her 
strange  bed  within  the  humble  yellow  house  at  the 
fork  of  the  trails,  was  aroused  to  wakefulness  by  the 
pounding  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on  the  plank  bridge  span 
ning  the  creek.  She  drew  aside  the  curtain  and  looked 
out,  shading  her  eyes  to  see  clearer  through  the  poor 
glass.  All  she  perceived  was  a  somewhat  deeper 
smudge  when  the  rider  swept  rapidly  past,  horse  and 

I"  i] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

man  a  shapeless  shadow.  Three  hours  later  she 
awoke  again,  this  time  to  the  full  glare  of  day,  and  to 
the  remembrance  that  she  was  now  facing  a  new  life. 
As  she  lay  there  thinking,  her  eyes  troubled  but  tear 
less,  far  away  on  the  sun-kissed  uplands  Hampton 
was  spurring  forward  his  horse,  already  beginning  to 
exhibit  signs  of  weariness.  Bent  slightly  over  the 
saddle  pommel,  his  eyes  upon  those  snow-capped 
peaks  still  showing  blurred  and  distant,  he  rode 
steadily  on,  the  only  moving  object  amid  all  that  wide, 
desolate  landscape. 


PART  II 
WHAT  OCCURRED  IN  GLENCAID 


PART  II 
WHAT  OCCURRED    IN    GLENCAID 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  ARRIVAL  OF  Miss  SPENCER 

THERE  was  a  considerable  period  when  events 
of  importance  in  Glencaid's  history  were  viewed 
against  the   background  of  the  opening  of  its 
first  school.     This  was  not  entirely  on  account  of  the 
deep  interest  manifested  in  the  cause  of  higher  edu 
cation    by    the    residents,    but    owing    rather    to    the 
personality    of  the    pioneer    school-teacher,   and    the 
deep,  abiding  impress  which  she  made  upon  the  com 
munity. 

Miss  Phoebe  Spencer  came  direct  to  Glencaid 
from  the  far  East,  her  starting-point  some  little  junction 
place  back  in  Vermont,  although  she  proudly  named 
Boston  as  her  home,  having  once  visited  in  that 
metropolis  for  three  delicious  weeks.  She  was  of  an 
ardent,  impressionable  nature.  Her  mind  was  nur 
tured  upon  Eastern  conceptions  of  our  common 
country,  her  imagination  aglow  with  weird  tales  of  the 
frontier,  and  her  bright  eyes  perceived  the  vivid  color 
ing  of  romance  in  each  prosaic  object  west  of  the  tawny 
Missouri.  All  appeared  so  different  from  that  estab 
lished  life  to  which  she  had  grown  accustomed,  —  the 

['•5] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

people,  the  country,  the  picturesque  language, — 
while  her  brain  so  teemed  with  lurid  pictures  of  border 
experiences  and  heroes  as  to  reveal  romantic  possibil 
ities  everywhere.  The  vast,  mysterious  West,  with  its 
seemingly  boundless  prairies,  grand,  solemn  mountains, 
and  frankly  spoken  men  peculiarly  attired  and  every 
where  bearing  the  inevitable  "gun,"  was  to  her  a 
newly  discovered  world.  She  could  scarcely  compre 
hend  its  reality.  As  the  apparently  illimitable  plains, 
barren,  desolate,  awe-inspiring,  rolled  away  behind, 
mile  after  mile,  like  a  vast  sea,  and  left  a  measureless 
expanse  of  grim  desert  between  her  and  the  old  life, 
her  unfettered  imagination  seemed  to  expand  with  the 
fathomless  blue  of  the  Western  sky.  As  her  eager  eyes 
traced  the  serrated  peaks  of  a  snow-clad  mountain 
range,  her  heart  throbbed  with  anticipation  of  wonders 
yet  to  come.  Homesickness  was  a  thing  undreamed 
of;  her  active  brain  responded  to  each  new  impression. 

She  sat  comfortably  ensconced  in  the  back  seat  of 
the  old,  battered  red  coach,  surrounded  by  cushions 
for  protection  from  continual  jouncing,  as  the  Jehu  in 
charge  urged  his  restive  mules  down  the  desolate 
valley  of  the  Bear  Water.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed, 
her  wide-open  eyes  filled  with  questioning,  her  pale 
fluffy  hair  frolicking  with  the  breeze,  as  pretty  a 
picture  of  young  womanhood  as  any  one  could  wish  to 
see.  Nor  was  she  unaware  of  this  fact.  During  the 
final  stage  of  her  long  journey  she  had  found  two  con 
genial  souls,  sufficiently  picturesque  to  harmonize  with 
her  ideas  of  wild  Western  romance. 

These  two  men  were  lolling  in  the  less  comfortable 
[116] 


THE   ARRIVAL  OF    MISS    SPENCER 

seat  opposite,  secretly  longing  for  a  quiet  smoke  out 
side,  yet  neither  willing  to  desert  this  Eastern  divinity 
to  his  rival.  The  big  fellow,  his  arm  run  carelessly 
through  the  leather  sling,  his  bare  head  projecting  half 
out  of  the  open  window,  was  Jack  Moffat,  half-owner 
of  the  "  Golden  Rule,"  and  enjoying  a  well-earned  rep 
utation  as  the  most  ornate  and  artistic  liar  in  the  Ter 
ritory.  For  two  hours  he  had  been  exercising  his 
talent  to  the  full,  and  merely  paused  now  in  search  of 
some  fresh  inspiration,  holding  in  supreme  and  silent 
contempt  the  rather  feeble  imitations  of  his  less-gifted 
companion.  It  is  also  just  to  add  that  Mr.  Moffat 
personally  formed  an  ideal  accompaniment  to  his  vivid 
narrations  of  adventure,  and  he  was  fully  aware  of  the 
fact  that  Miss  Spencer's  appreciative  eyes  wandered 
frequently  in  his  direction,  noting  his  tanned  cheeks, 
his  long  silky  mustache,  the  somewhat  melancholy 
gleam  of  his  dark  eyes  —  hiding  beyond  doubt  some 
mystery  of  the  past,  the  nature  of  which  was  yet  to  be 
revealed.  Mr.  Moffat,  always  strong  along  this  line 
of  feminine  sympathy,  felt  newly  inspired  by  these 
evidences  of  interest  in  his  tales,  and  by  something  in 
Miss  Spencer's  face  which  bespoke  admiration. 

The  fly  in  the  ointment  of  this  long  day's  ride, 
the  third  party,  whose  undesirable  presence  and  per 
sonal  knowledge  of  Mr.  Moffat's  past  career  rather 
seriously  interfered  with  the  latter's  flights  of  imagi 
nation,  was  William  McNeil,  foreman  of  the  "BarV" 
ranch  over  on  Sinsiniwa  Creek.  McNeil  was  not 
much  of  a  talker,  having  an  impediment  in  his  speech, 
and  being  a  trifle  bashful  in  the  presence  of  * 

C»7] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

lady.  But  he  caught  the  eye,  —  a  slenderly  built, 
reckless  fellow,  smoothly  shaven,  with  a  strong  chin 
and  bright  laughing  eyes,  —  and  as  he  lolled  carelessly 
back  in  his  bearskin  "chaps"  and  wide-brimmed  som 
brero,  occasionally  throwing  in  some  cool,  insinuating 
comment  regarding  Moffat's  recitals,  the  latter  experi 
enced  a  strong  inclination  to  heave  him  overboard. 
The  slight  hardening  of  McNeil's  eyes  at  such 
moments  had  thus  far  served,  however,  as  sufficient 
restraint,  while  the  unobservant  Miss  Spencer,  unaware 
of  the  silent  duel  thus  being  conducted  in  her  very 
presence,  divided  her  undisguised  admiration,  play 
ing  havoc  with  the  susceptible  heart  of  each,  and 
all  unconsciously  laying  the  foundations  for  future 
trouble. 

"  Why,  how  truly  remarkable  ! "  she  exclaimed, 
her  cheeks  glowing.  "It's  all  so  different  from  the 
East ;  heroism  seems  to  be  in  the  very  air  of  this 
country,  and  your  adventure  was  so  very  unusual. 
Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  McNeil  ? " 

The  silent  foreman  hitched  himself  suddenly  up 
right,  his  face  unusually  solemn.  "Why  —  eh  —  yes, 
miss  —  you  might — eh  —  say  that.  He,"  with  a  flip 
of  his  hand  toward  the  other,  "eh  —  reminds  me  — 
of — eh — an  old  friend." 

"Indeed?  How  extremely  interesting!"  eagerly 
scenting  a  new  story.  "  Please  tell  me  who  it  was, 
Mr.  McNeil." 

"Oh  —  eh  —  knew  him  when  I  was  a  boy  —  eh  — 
Munchausen." 

Mr.   MofFat  drew  in  his  head  violently,  with  an 


THE   ARRIVAL   OF    MISS    SPENCER 

exclamation  nearly  profane,  yet  before  he  could  speak 
Miss  Spencer  intervened. 

"  Munchausen !  Why,  Mr.  McNeil,  you  surely 
do  not  intend  to  question  the  truth  of  Mr.  Moffat's 
narrative  ? " 

The  foreman's  eyes  twinkled  humorously,  but  the 
lines  of  his  face  remained  calmly  impassive.     "My- 
eh  —  reference,"  he  explained,  gravely,  "was  — eh  - 
entirely  to   the  —  eh  —  local  color,  the  —  eh  —  expert 
touches." 
"Oh!" 

"Yes,  miss.  It's— eh  — bad  taste  out  here  to  — 
eh  —  doubt  anybody's  word  —  eh  —  publicly." 

Moffat  stirred  uneasily,  his  hand  flung  behind  him, 
but  McNeil  was  gazing  into  the  lady's  fair  face,  appar 
ently  unconscious  of  any  other  presence. 

"  But  all  this  time  you  have  not  favored  me  with 
any  of  your  own  adventures,  Mr.  McNeil.  I  am 
very  sure  you  must  have  had  hundreds  out  on  these 
wide  plains." 

The  somewhat  embarrassed  foreman  shook  his 
head  discouragingly. 

"  Oh,  but  I  just  know  you  have,  only  you  are  so 
modest  about  recounting  them.     Now,  that  scar  just 
under  your  hair  —  really  it  is  not  at  all  unbecoming  — 
surely    that   reveals  a  story.     Was   it   caused   by   an 
Indian  arrow  ?  " 

McNeil  crossed  his  legs,  and  wiped  his  damp  fore 
head  with  the  back  of  his  hand.  "  Hoof  of  a 
damn  pack-mule,"  he  explained,  forgetting  him 
self.  "  The  —  eh  —  cuss  lifted  me  ten  feet." 

["9] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Moffat  laughed  hoarsely,  but  as  the  foreman 
straightened  up  quickly,  the  amazed  girl  joined  happily 
in-,  and  his  own  face  instantly  exhibited  the  con 
tagion. 

"  Ain't  much  —  eh  —  ever  happens  out  on  a  ranch," 
he  said,  doubtfully, cc  except  dodgin'  steers,  and  —  eh  — 
bustin'  broncoes." 

"  Your  blame  mule  story,"  broke  in  Moffat,  who  had 
at  last  discovered  his  inspiration,  "  reminds  me  of  a 
curious  little  incident  occurring  last  year  just  across 
the  divide.  I  don't  recall  ever  telling  it  before,  but 
it  may  interest  you,  Miss  Spencer,  as  illustrative  of 
one  phase  of  life  in  this  country.  A  party  of  us  were 
out  after  bear,  and  one  night  when  I  chanced  to  be  left 
all  alone  in  camp,  I  did  n't  dare  fall  asleep  and  leave 
everything  unguarded,  as  the  Indians  were  all  around 
as  thick  as  leaves  on  a  tree.  So  I  decided  to  sit  up  in 
front  of  the  tent  on  watch.  Along  about  midnight,  I 
suppose,  I  dropped  off  into  a  doze,  for  the  first  thing 
I  heard  was  the  hee-haw  of  a  mule  right  in  my  ear. 
It  sounded  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  and  I  jumped  up, 
coming  slap-bang  against  the  brute's  nose  so  blamed 
hard  it  knocked  me  flat ;  and  then,  when  I  fairly  got 
my  eyes  open,  I  saw  five  Sioux  Indians  creeping 
along  through  the  moonlight,  heading  right  toward 
our  pony  herd.  I  tell  you  things  looked  mighty 
skittish  for  me  just  then,  but  what  do  you  suppose  I 
did  with  'em  ? " 

"Eh  —  eat  'em,  likely,"  suggested  McNeil, 
thoughtfully,  "  fried  with  plenty  of —  eh  —  salt ;  heard 
they  were  —  eh  —  good  that  way." 

[120] 


THE   ARRIVAL   OF    MISS    SPENCER 

Mr.  Moffat  half  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  You  damn  —  " 

"O  Mr.  McNeil,  how  perfectly  ridiculous !"  chimed 
in  Miss  Spencer.  "  Please  do  go  on,  Mr.  Moffat ; 
it  is  so  exceedingly  interesting." 

The  incensed  narrator  sank  reluctantly  back  into 
his  seat,  his  eyes  yet  glowing  angrily.  "  Well,  I  crept 
carefully  along  a  little  gully  until  I  got  where  them 
Indians  were  just  exactly  opposite  me  in  a  direct  line. 
I  had  an  awful  heavy  gun,  carrying  a  slug  of  lead 
near  as  big  as  your  fist.  Had  it  fixed  up  specially 
fer  grizzlies.  The  fellow  creepin'  along  next  me  was 
a  tremendous  big  buck ;  he  looked  like  a  plum  giant 
in  that  moonlight,  and  I  'd  just  succeeded  in  drawin'  a 
bead  on  him  when  a  draught  of  air  from  up  the  gully 
strikin'  across  the  back  of  my  neck  made  me  sneeze, 
and  that  buck  turned  round  and  saw  me.  You 
would  n't  hardly  believe  what  happened." 

"  Whole  —  eh  —  bunch  drop  dead  from  fright  ? " 
asked  McNeil,  solicitously. 

Moffat  glared  at  him  savagely,  his  lips  moving, 
but  emitting  no  sound. 

"  Oh,  please  don't  mind,"  urged  his  fair  listener, 
her  flushed  cheeks  betraying  her  interest.  "  He  is  so 
full  of  his  fun.  What  did  follow  ?  " 

The  story-teller  swallowed  something  in  his  throat, 
his  gaze  still  on  his  persecutor.  "  No,  sir,"  he  contin 
ued,  hoarsely,  "  them  bucks  jumped  to  their  feet  with 
the  most  awful  yells  I  ever  heard,  and  made  a  rush 
toward  where  I  was  standing.  They  was  exactly  in  a 
line,  and  I  let  drive  at  that  first  buck,  and  blame  me  if 

[121] 


BOB     HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

that  slug  did  n't  go  plum  through  three  of  'em,  and 
knock  down  the  fourth.  You  can  roast  me  alive  if 
that  ain't  a  fact !  The  fifth  one  got  away,  but  I  roped 
the  wounded  fellow,  and  was  a-sittin'  on  him  when 
the  rest  of  the  party  got  back  to  camp.  Jim  Healy 
was  along,  and  he  '11  tell  you  the  same  story." 

There  was  a  breathless  silence,  during  which 
McNeil  spat  meditatively  out  of  the  window. 

"  Save  any  —  eh  —  locks  of  their  hair?"  he  ques 
tioned,  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  please  don't  tell  me  anything  about  that !  " 
interrupted  Miss  Spencer,  nervously.  "The  whites 
don't  scalp,  do  they  ?  " 

"Not  generally,  miss,  but  I  —  eh  —  didn't  just 
know  what  Mr.  Moffat's  —  eh  —  custom  was." 

The  latter  gentleman  had  his  head  craned  out  of 
the  window  once  more,  in  an  apparent  determination 
to  ignore  all  such  frivolous  remarks.  Suddenly  he 
pointed  directly  ahead. 

"There's  Glencaid  now,  Miss  Spencer,"  he  said, 
cheerfully,  glad  enough  of  an  opportunity  to  change 
the  topic  of  conversation.  "That's  the  spire  of  the 
new  Presbyterian  church  sticking  up  above  the 
ridge." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  How  glad  I  am  to  be  here  safe  at 
last!" 

"How  —  eh  —  did  you  happen  to  —  eh  —  recog 
nize  the  church?"  asked  McNeil  with  evident  admi 
ration.  "You  —  eh  —  can't  see  it  from  the  saloon." 

Moffat  disdained  reply,  and  the  lurching  stage 
rolled  rapidly  down  the  valley,  the  mules  now  lashed 

[122] 


THE   ARRIVAL   OF    MISS    SPENCER 

into  a  wild  gallop  to  the  noisy  accompaniment  of  the 
driver's  whip. 

The  hoofs  clattered  across  the  narrow  bridge,  and, 
with  a  sudden  swing,  all  came  to  a  sharp  stand,  amid 
a  cloud  of  dust  before  a  naked  yellow  house. 

"  Here  's  where  you  get  out,  miss,"  announced  the 
Jehu,  leaning  down  from  his  seat  to  peer  within. 
"This  yere  is  the  Herndon  shebang." 

The  gentlemen  inside  assisted  Miss  Spencer  to 
descend  in  safety  to  the  weed-bordered  walk,  where  she 
stood  shaking  her  ruffled  plumage  into  shape,  and 
giving  directions  regarding  her  luggage.  Then  the 
two  gentlemen  emerged,  Moffat  bearing  a  grip-case, 
a  bandbox,  and  a  basket,  while  McNeil  supported  a 
shawl-strap  and  a  small  trunk.  Thus  decorated  they 
meekly  followed  her  lead  up  the  narrow  path  toward 
the  front  door.  The  latter  opened  suddenly,  and 
Mrs.  Herndon  bounced  forth  with  vociferous  wel 
come. 

"Why,  Phoebe  Spencer,  and  have  you  really 
come  !  I  did  n't  expect  you  'd  get  along  before  next 
week.  Oh,  this  seems  too  nice  to  see  you  again ; 
almost  as  good  as  going  home  to  Vermont.  You 
must  be  completely  tired  out." 

"  Dear  Aunt  Lydia ;  of  course  I  'm  glad  to  be 
here.  But  I  'm  not  in  the  least  tired.  I  've  had  such 
a  delightful  trip."  She  glanced  around  smilingly  upon 
her  perspiring  cavaliers.  "  Oh,  put  those  things  down, 
gentlemen  —  anywhere  there  on  the  grass;  they  can  be 
carried  in  later.  It  was  so  kind  of  you  both." 

"  Hey,    there ! "    sang    out    the    driver,    growing 

["3] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

impatient,  "if  you  two  gents  are  aimin*  to  go  down 
town  with  this  outfit,  you'd  better  be  pilin'  in  lively, 
fer  I  can't  stay  here  all  day." 

Moffat  glanced  furtively  aside  at  McNeil,  only  to 
discover  that  individual  quietly  seated  on  the  trunk. 
He  promptly  dropped  his  own  grip. 

"  Drive  on  with  your  butcher's  cart,"  he  called 
out  spitefully.  "I  reckon  it's  no  special  honor  to 
ride  to  town." 

The  pleasantly  smiling  young  woman  glanced  from 
one  to  the  other,  her  eyes  fairly  dancing,  as  the  lum 
bering  coach  disappeared  through  the  red  dust. 

"How  very  nice  of  you  to  remain,"  she  exclaimed. 
"Aunt  Lydia,  I  am  so  anxious  for  you  to  meet  my 
friends,  Mr.  Moffat  and  Mr.  McNeil.  They  have 
been  so  thoughtful  and  entertaining  all  the  way  up  the 
Bear  Water,  and  they  explained  so  many  things  that 
I  did  not  understand." 

She  swept  impulsively  down  toward  them,  both 
hands  extended,  the  bright  glances  of  her  eyes  be 
stowed  impartially. 

"  I  cannot  invite  you  to  come  into  the  house  now," 
she  exclaimed,  sweetly,  "  for  I  am  almost  like  a  stranger 
here  myself,  but  I  do  hope  you  will  both  of  you  call.  I 
shall  be  so  very  lonely  at  first,  and  you  are  my  earliest 
acquaintances.  You  will  promise,  won't  you  ? " 

McNeil  bowed,  painfully  clearing  his  throat,  but 
Moffat  succeeded  in  expressing  his  pleasure  with  a 
well-rounded  sentence. 

"  I  felt  sure  you  would.  But  now  I  must  really 
say  good-bye  for  this  time,  and  go  in  with  Aunt  Lydia. 


THE  ARRIVAL   OF    MISS  SPENCER 

I  know  I  must  be  getting  horribly  burned  out  here  in 
this  hot  sun.  I  shall  always  be  so  grateful  to  you 
both." 

The  two  radiant  knights  walked  together  toward 
the  road,  neither  uttering  a  word.      McNeil  whistled 
carelessly,   and   Moffat  gazed  intently   at   the   distant 
hills.      Just  beyond  the  gate,   and  without  so  much 
as  glancing  toward  his  companion,  the  latter  turned 
and  strode  up  one  of  the  numerous  diverging  trails. 
McNeil  halted  and  stared  after  him  in  surprise. 
"Ain't  you  —  eh  —  goin'  on  down  town?" 
"  I  reckon  not.      Take  a  look  at  my  mine  first/' 
McNeil  chuckled.     "You  —  eh  —  better  be  careful 
goin' up  that  —  eh  —  gully,"  he  volunteered,  soberly, 
"  the  —  eh  —  ghosts  of  them  four  —  eh  —  I  njuns  might 
—  eh  —  haunt  ye  !  " 

Moffat  wheeled  about  as  if  he  had  been  shot  in 
the  back.  "  You  blathering,  mutton-headed  cowherd !" 
he  yelled,  savagely. 

But  McNeil  was  already  nearly  out  of  hearing. 


CHAPTER  II 

BECOMING  ACQUAINTED 

ONCE  within  the  cool  shadows  of  the  living- 
room,  Mrs.  Herndon  again  bethought  herself 
to  kiss  her  niece  in  a  fresh  glow  of  welcome, 
while  the  latter  sank  into  a  convenient  rocker  and 
began  enthusiastically  expressing  her  unbounded  en 
joyment  of  the  West,  and  of  the  impressions  gath 
ered  during  her  journey.  Suddenly  the  elder  woman 
glanced  about  and  exclaimed,  laughingly,  "  Why,  I 
had  completely  forgotten.  You  have  not  yet  met 
your  room-mate.  Come  out  here,  Naida  ;  this  is  my 
niece,  Phoebe  Spencer." 

The  girl  thus  addressed  advanced,  a  slender,  grace 
ful  figure  dressed  in  white,  and  extended  her  hand 
shyly.  Miss  Spencer  clasped  it  warmly,  her  eyes 
upon  the  flushed,  winsome  face. 

"  And  is  this  Naida  Gillis  !  "  she  cried.  "  I  am  so 
delighted  that  you  are  still  here,  and  that  we  are  to  be 
together.  Aunt  Lydia  has  written  so  much  about  you 
that  I  feel  as  if  we  must  have  known  each  other  for 
years.  Why,  how  pretty  you  are !  " 

Naida's  cheeks  were  burning,  and  her  eyes  fell, 
but  she  had  never  yet  succeeded  in  conquering  the 
blunt  independence  of  her  speech.  "  Nobody  else  ever 
says  so,"  she  said,  uneasily.  "  Perhaps  it 's  the  light." 

Miss  Spencer  turned  her  about  so  as  to  face  the 


BECOMING     ACQUAINTED 

window.  "Well,  you  are,"  she  announced,  decisively. 
"  I  guess  I  know  ;  you  Ve  got  magnificent  hair,  and 
your  eyes  are  perfectly  wonderful.  You  just  don't 
fix  yourself  up  right;  Aunt  Lydia  never  did  have  any 
taste  in  such  things,  but  I  '11  make  a  new  girl  out  of 
you.  Let 's  go  upstairs ;  I  'm  simply  dying  to  see 
our  room,  and  get  some  of  my  dresses  unpacked. 
They  must  look  perfect  frights  by  this  time." 

They  came  down  perhaps  an  hour  later,  hand  in 
hand,  and  chattering  like  old  friends.  The  shades  of 
early  evening  were  already  falling  across  the  valley. 
Herndon  had  returned  home  from  his  day's  work, 
and  had  brought  with  him  the  Rev.  Howard  Wyn- 
koop  for  supper.  Miss  Spencer  viewed  the  young 
man  with  approval,  and  immediately  became  more 
than  usually  vivacious  in  recounting  the  incidents  of 
her  long  journey,  together  with  her  early  impressions 
of  the  Western  country.  Mr.  Wynkoop  responded 
with  an  interest  far  from  being  assumed. 

"  I  have  found  it  all  so  strange,  so  unique,  Mr. 
Wynkoop,"  she  explained.  "  The  country  is  like  a 
new  world  to  me,  and  the  people  do  not  seem  at  all 
like  those  of  the  East.  They  lead  such  a  wild, 
untrammelled  life.  Everything  about  seems  to  exhale 
the  spirit  of  romance  ;  don't  you  find  it  so  ?  " 

He  smiled  at  her  enthusiasm,  his  glance  of  undis 
guised  admiration  on  her  face.  "  I  certainly  recall 
some  such  earlier  conception,"  he  admitted.  4(  Those 
just  arriving  from  the  environment  of  an  older  civil 
ization  perceive  merely  the  picturesque  elements  ;  but 
my  later  experiences  have  been  decidedly  prosaic." 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"Why,  Mr.  Wynkoop !  how  could  they  be? 
Your  work  is  heroic.  I  cannot  conceive  how  any 
minister  of  the  Cross,  having  within  him  any  of  the 
old  apostolic  fervor,  can  consent  to  spend  his  days 
amid  the  dreary  commonplaces  of  those  old,  dead 
Eastern  churches.  You,  nobly  battling  on  the  fron 
tier,  are  the  true  modern  Crusaders,  the  Knights  of 
the  Grail.  Here  you  are  ever  in  the  very  forefront 
of  the  battle  against  sin,  associated  with  the  Argo 
nauts,  impressing  your  faith  upon  the  bold,  virile 
spirits  of  the  age.  It  is  perfectly  grand !  Why  the 
very  men  I  meet  seem  to  yield  me  a  broader  concep 
tion  of  life  and  duty  ;  they  are  so  brave,  so  modest,  so 
active.  Is  —  is  Mr.  MofTat  a  member  of  your 
church  ? " 

The  minister  cleared  his  throat,  his  cheeks  redden 
ing.  "  Mr.  Moffat?  Ah,  no;  not  exactlv.  Do  you 
mean  the  mine-owner,  Jack  Moffat?  " 

"Yes,  I  think  so ;  he  told  me  he  owned  a  mine  — 
the  Golden  Rule  the  name  was ;  the  very  choice  in 
words  would  seem  to  indicate  his  religious  nature. 
He  's  such  a  pleasant,  intelligent  man.  There  is  a 
look  in  his  eyes  as  though  he  sorrowed  over  some 
thing.  I  was  in  hopes  you  knew  what  it  was,  and  I 
am  very  sure  he  would  welcome  your  ministrations. 
You  have  the  only  church  in  Glencaid,  I  understand, 
and  I  wonder  greatly  he  has  never  joined  you.  But 
perhaps  he  may  be  prejudiced  against  your  denomi 
nation.  There  is  so  much  narrowness  in  religion. 
Now,  I  am  an  Episcopalian  myself,  but  I  do  not 
mean  to  permit  that  to  interfere  in  any  way  with  my 


BECOMING     ACQUAINTED 

church  work  out  here.  I  wonder  if  Mr.  Moffat  can 
be  an  Episcopalian.  If  he  is,  I  am  just  going  to 
show  him  that  it  is  clearly  his  duty  to  assist  in  any 
Christian  service.  Is  n't  that  the  true,  liberal,  Western 
spirit,  Mr.  Wynkoop  ?  " 

"It  most  assuredly  should  be,"  said  the  young 
pastor. 

"  I  left  every  prejudice  east  of  the  Missouri,"  she 
declared,  laughingly,  "every  one,  social  and  reli 
gious.  I  'm  going  to  be  a  true  Westerner,  from  the 
top  of  my  head  to  the  toe  of  my  shoe.  Is  Mr. 
McNeil  in  your  church  ?  " 

The  minister  hesitated.  "I  really  do  not  recall 
the  name,"  he  confessed  at  last,  reluctantly.  "  I 
scarcely  think  I  can  have  ever  met  the  gentleman." 

"  Oh,  you  ought  to  ;  he  is  so  intensely  original, 
and  his  face  is  full  of  character.  He  reminds  me  of 
some  old  paladin  of  the  Middle  Ages.  You  would 
be  interested  in  him  at  once.  He  is  the  foreman  of 
the  c  Bar  V '  ranch,  somewhere  near  here." 

"Do  you  mean  Billy  McNeil,  over  on  Sinsiniwa 
Creek?  "  broke  in  Herndon. 

"  I  think  quite  likely,  uncle ;  would  n't  he  make 
a  splendid  addition  to  Mr.  Wynkoop's  church?" 

Herndon  choked,  his  entire  body  shaking  with 
ill-suppressed  enjoyment.  "  I  should  imagine  yes," 
he  admitted  finally.  "Billy  McNeil  — oh,  Lord! 
There  's  certainly  a  fine  opening  for  you  to  do  some 
missionary  work,  Phcebe." 

"  Well,  and  I  'm  going  to,"  announced  the  young 
lady,  firmly.  "  I  guess  I  can  read  men's  characters, 

[129] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

and  I  know  all  Mr.  McNeil  needs  is  to  have  some 
one  show  an  interest  in  him.  Have  you  a  large 
church,  Mr.  Wynkoop  ?  " 

"  Not  large  if  judged  from  an  Eastern  standpoint," 
he  confessed,  with  some  regret.  "  Our  present  mem 
bership  is  composed  of  eight  women  and  three  men, 
but  the  congregational  attendance  is  quite  good,  and 
constantly  increasing." 

"  Only  eight  women  and  three  men ! "  breath 
lessly.  "  And  you  have  been  laboring  upon  this  field 
for  five  years  !  How  could  it  be  so  small  ?  " 

Wynkoop  pushed  back  his  chair,  anxious  to  re 
deem  himself  in  the  estimation  of  this  fair  stranger. 

"  Miss  Spencer,"  he  explained,  "  it  is  perhaps 
hardly  strange  that  you  should  misapprehend  the 
peculiar  conditions  under  which  religious  labor  is  con 
ducted  in  the  West.  You  will  undoubtedly  under 
stand  all  this  better  presently.  My  parish  comprises 
this  entire  mining  region,  and  I  am  upon  horseback 
among  the  foothills  and  up  in  the  ranges  for  fully  a 
third  of  my  time.  The  spirit  of  the  mining  popula 
tion,  as  well  as  of  the  cattlemen,  while  not  actually 
hostile,  is  one  of  indifference  to  religious  thought. 
They  care  nothing  whatever  for  it  in  the  abstract,  and 
have  no  use  for  any  minister,  unless  it  may  be  to 
marry  their  children  or  bury  their  dead.  I  am  hence 
obliged  to  meet  with  them  merely  as  man  to  man, 
and  thus  slowly  win  their  confidence  before  I  dare 
even  approach  a  religious  topic.  For  three  long 
years  I  worked  here  without  even  a  church  organi 
zation  or  a  building;  and  apparently  without  the 


BECOMING     ACQUAINTED 

faintest  encouragement.  Now  that  we  have  a  nucleus 
gathered,  a  comfortable  building  erected  and  paid  for, 
with  an  increasing  congregation,  I  begin  to  feel  that 
those  seemingly  barren  five  years  were  not  without 
spiritual  value." 

She  quickly  extended  her  hands.  "  Oh,  it  is  so 
heroic,  so  self-sacrificing !  No  doubt  I  was  hasty  and 
wrong.  But  I  have  always  been  accustomed  to  so 
much  larger  churches.  I  am  going  to  help  you,  Mr. 
Wynkoop,  in  every  way  I  possibly  can  —  I  shall  cer 
tainly  speak  to  both  Mr.  Moffatand  Mr.  McNeil  the 
very  first  opportunity.  I  feel  almost  sure  that  they 

will  join." 

The  unavoidable  exigencies  of  a  choir  practice 
compelled  Mr.  Wynkoop  to  retire  early,  nor  was  it 
yet  late  when  the  more  intimate  family  circle  also 
dissolved,  and  the  two  girls  discovered  themselves 
alone.  Naida  drew  down  the  shades  and  lit  the  lamp. 
Miss  Spencer  slowly  divested  herself  of  her  outer 
dress,  replacing  it  with  a  light  wrapper,  encased  her 
feet  snugly  in  comfortable  slippers,  and  proceeded  to 
let  down  her  flossy  hair  in  gleaming  waves  across  her 
shoulders.  Naida's  dark  eyes  bespoke  plainly  her 
admiration,  and  Miss  Spencer  shook  back  her  hair 
somewhat  coquettishly. 

"  Do  you  think   I    look  nice  ? "    she    questioned, 

smilingly. 

"You  bet  I  do.      Your  hair  is  just  beautiful,  Miss 

Spencer." 

The  other  permitted  the  soft  strands  to  slip  slowly 
between   her  white  fingers.     "You  should  never  say 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

'you  bet/  Naida.  Such  language  is  not  at  all  lady 
like.  I  am  going  to  call  you  Naida,  and  you  must 
call  me  Phoebe.  People  use  their  given  names  almost 
entirely  out  here  in  the  West,  don't  they  ? " 

"  I  never  have  had  much  training  in  being  a  lady," 
the  young  girl  explained,  reddening,  "  but  I  can  learn. 
Yes,  I  reckon  they  do  mostly  use  the  first  names 
out  here." 

"  Please  don't  say  c  I  reckon/  either ;  it  has  such  a 
vulgar  sound.  What  is  his  given  name  ?  " 

"Whose?" 

"  Why,  I  was  thinking  of  Mr.  Wynkoop." 

"Howard;  I  saw  it  written  in  some  books  he 
loaned  me.  But  the  people  here  never  address  him  in 
that  way." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,  only  I  thought  I  should  like 
to  know  what  it  was." 

There  was  a  considerable  pause ;  then  the  speaker 
asked,  calmly,  "  Is  he  married  ?  "  • 

"  Mr.  Wynkoop  ?  Why,  of  course  not ;  he 
does  n't  care  for  women  in  that  way  at  all." 

Miss  Spencer  bound  her  hair  carefully  with  a 
bright  ribbon.  "  Maybe  he  might,  though,  some  time. 
All  men  do." 

She  sat  down  in  the  low  rocker,  her  feet  com 
fortably  crossed.  "Do  you  know,  Naida  dear,  it  is 
simply  wonderful  to  me  just  to  remember  what 
you  have  been  through,  and  it  was  so  beautifully 
romantic  —  everybody  killed  except  you  and  that 
man,  and  then  he  saved  your  life.  It 's  such  a  pity 
he  was  so  miserable  a  creature." 

[13*3 


BECOMING     ACQUAINTED 

"  He  was  n't !  "  Naida  exclaimed,  in  sudden,  indig 
nant  passion.  "  He  was  perfectly  splendid." 

"Aunt  Lydia  did  n't  think  so.  She  wrote  he  was  a 
common  gambler, —  a  low,  rough  man/' 

"Well,  he  did  gamble;  nearly  everybody  does  out 
here.  And  sometimes  I  suppose  he  had  to  fight,  but 
he  was  n't  truly  bad." 

Miss   Spencer's  eyes  evinced  a  growing  interest. 

"  Was  he  real  nice-looking  ?  "  she  asked. 

Naida's  voice  faltered.  "  Ye  —  es,"  she  said.  "I 
thought  so.  He  —  he  looked  like  he  was  a  man." 

"  How  old  are  you,  Naida  ?  " 

"  Nearly  eighteen." 

Miss  Spencer  leaned  impulsively  forward,  and 
clasped  the  other's  hands,  her  whole  soul  responding 
to  this  suggestion  of  a  possible  romance,  a  vision  of 
blighted  hearts.  "Why,  it  is  perfectly  delightful," 
she  exclaimed.  "  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  serious,  and 
really  I  don't  in  the  least  blame  you.  You  love  him, 
don't  you,  Naida?" 

The  girl  flashed  a  shy  look  into  the  beaming, 
inquisitive  face.  "  I  don't  know,"  she  confessed, 
soberly.  "  I  have  not  even  seen  him  for  such  a  long 
time;  but  —  but,  I  guess,  he  is  more  to  me  than  any 
one  else  — 

"  Not  seen  him  ?  Do  you  mean  to  say  Mr. 
Hampton  is  not  here  in  Glencaid?  Why,  I  am  so 
sorry ;  I  was  hoping  to  meet  him." 

"  He  went  away  the  same  night  I  came  here  to 
live." 

"  And  you  never  even  hear  from  him? " 

[133] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Naida  hesitated,  but  the  frankly  displayed  interest 
of  the  other  won  her  complete  girlish  confidence. 
"Not  directly,  but  Mr.  Herndon  receives  money 
from  him  for  me.  He  does  n't  let  your  aunt  know 
anything  about  it,  because  she  got  angry  and  refused 
to  accept  any  pay  from  him.  He  is  somewhere  over 
yonder  in  the  Black  Range.'* 

Miss  Spencer  shook  back  her  hair  with  a  merry 
laugh,  and  clasped  her  hands.  "  Why,  it  is  just  the 
most  delightful  situation  I  ever  heard  about.  He 
is  just  certain  to  come  back  after  you,  Naida.  I 
would  n't  miss  being  here  for  anything." 

They  were  still  sitting  there,  when  the  notes  of  a 
softly  touched  guitar  stole  in  through  the  open 
window.  Both  glanced  about  in  surprise,  but  Miss 
Spencer  was  first  to  recover  speech. 

"A  serenade!  Did  you  ever!"  she  whispered. 
"  Do  you  suppose  it  can  be  he  ?  "  She  extinguished 
the  lamp  and  knelt  upon  the  floor,  peering  eagerly 
forth  into  the  brilliant  moonlight.  "  Why,  Naida, 
what  do  you  think?  It's  Mr.  Moffat.  How 
beautifully  he  plays  ! " 

Naida,  her  face  pressed  against  the  other  win 
dow,  gave  vent  to  a  single  note  of  half-suppressed 
laughter.  "  There  's  going  to  be  something  hap 
pening,"  she  exclaimed.  "Oh,  Miss  Spencer,  come 
here  quick  —  some  one  is  going  to  turn  on  the 
hydraulic." 

Miss  Spencer  knelt  beside  her.  Moffat  was  still 
plainly  visible,  his  pale  face  upturned  in  the  moon 
light,  his  long  silky  mustaches  slightly  stirred  by  the 


BECOMING      ACQUAINTED 

soft  air,  his  fingers  touching  the  strings  ;  but  back  in 
the  shadows  of  the  bushes  was  seen  another  figure, 
apparently  engaged  upon  some  task  with  feverish 
eagerness.  To  Miss  Spencer  all  was  mystery. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  anxiously  questioned. 

"  The  hydraulic/'  whispered  the  other.  "There  's 
a  big  lake  up  in  the  hills,  and  they  Ve  piped  the  water 
down  here.  It 's  got  a  force  like  a  cannon,  and  that 
fellow —  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  Herndon  or  not 
-is  screwing  on  the  hose  connection.  I  bet  your 
Mr.  Moffat  gets  a  shock!" 

"  It 's  a  perfect  shame,  an  outrage  !  I  'm  going  to 
tell  him/' 

Naida  caught  her  sleeve  firmly,  her  eyes  full  of 
laughter.  "  Oh,  please  don't,  Miss  Spencer.  It  will 
be  such  fun.  Let 's  see  where  it  hits  him  !  " 

For  one  single  instant  the  lady  yielded,  and  in  it 
all  opportunity  for  warning  fled.  There  was  a  sharp 
sizzling,  which  caused  MofFat  to  suspend  his  serenade; 
then  something  struck  him,  —  it  must  have  been  fairly 
in  the  middle,  for  he  shut  up  like  a  jack-knife,  and 
went  crashing  backwards  with  an  agonized  howl. 
There  was  a  gleam  of  shining  water,  something  black 
squirming  among  the  weeds,  a  yell,  a  volley  of  half- 
choked  profanity,  and  a  fleeing  figure,  apparently  pur 
sued  by  a  huge  snake.  Naida  shook  with  laughter, 
clinging  with  both  hands  to  the  sill,  but  Miss  Spencer 
was  plainly  shocked. 

"Oh,  did  you  hear  what — what  he  said?"  she 
asked.  "  Was  n't  it  awful  ?  " 

The  younger   nodded,  unable  as  yet  to  command 

[135] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

her  voice.  "I  —  I  don't  believe  he  is  an  Episcopa 
lian  ;  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  imagine  that  might  have  made 
even  a  Methodist  swear." 

The  puckers  began  to  show  about  the  disapprov 
ing  mouth,  under  the  contagion  of  the  other's  merri 
ment.  "  Was  n't  it  perfectly  ridiculous  ?  But  he  did 
play  beautifully,  and  it  was  so  very  nice  of  him  to 
come  my  first  night  here.  Do  you  suppose  that  was 
Mr.  Herndon  ? " 

Naida  shook  her  head  doubtfully.  "  He  looked 
taller,  but  I  could  n't  really  tell.  He  's  gone  now, 
and  the  water  is  turned  off." 

They  lit  the  lamp  once  more,  discussing  the  scene 
just  witnessed,  while  Miss  Spencer,  standing  before 
the  narrow  mirror,  prepared  her  hair  for  the  night. 
Suddenly  some  object  struck  the  lowered  window 
shade  and  dropped  upon  the  floor.  Naida  picked  it  up. 

"A  letter,"  she  announced,  "for  Miss  Phoebe 
Spencer." 

"  For  me  ?  What  can  it  be  ?  Why,  Naida,  it  is 
poetry !  Listen : 

Sweetest  flower  from  off  the 'Eastern  hills, 

So  lily-like  and  fair; 
Your  very  presence  stirs  and  thrills 

Our  buoyant  Western  air; 
The  plains  grow  lovelier  in  their  span, 

The  skies  above  more  blue, 
While  the  hetrt  of  Nature  and  of  man 

Beats  quick  response  for  you. 


"Oh,   isn't    that    simply    beautiful?     And    it 
signed  'Willie'  — why,  that  must  be  Mr.  McNeil." 


is 


BECOMING      ACQUAINTED 

"  I  reckon  he  copied  it  out  of  some  book,"  said 
Naida. 

"Oh,  I  know  he  didn't.  It  possesses  such  a 
touch  of  originality.  And  his  eyes,  Naida !  They 
have  that  deep  poetical  glow!" 

The  light  was  finally  extinguished ;  the  silvery 
moonlight  streamed  across  the  foot  of  the  bed;  and 
the  regular  breathing  of  the  girls  evidenced  slumber. 


[137] 


CHAPTER  III 

UNDER  ORDERS 

MANY  an  unexpected  event  has  resulted  from  the 
formal,    concise    orders    issued    by    the    War 
Department.     Cupid  in  the  disguise  of  Mars 
has  thus  frequently  toyed  with  the  fate  of  men,  send 
ing  many  a  gallant  soldier  forward,  all  unsuspecting, 
into  a  battle  of  the  heart. 

It  was  no  pleasant  assignment  to  duty  which 
greeted  First  Lieutenant  Donald  Brant,  commanding 
Troop  N,  Seventh  Cavalry,  when  that  regiment  came 
once  more  within  the  environs  of  civilization,  from  its 
summer  exercises  in  the  field.  Bethune  had  developed 
into  a  somewhat  important  post,  socially  as  well  as 
from  a  strictly  military  standpoint,  and  numerous 
indeed  were  the  attractions  offered  there  to  any  young 
officer  whose  duty  called  him  to  serve  the  colors  on 
those  bleak  Dakota  prairies.  Brant  frowned  at  the 
innocent  words,  reading  them  over  again  with  gloomy 
eyes  and  an  exclamation  of  unmitigated  disgust,  yet 
there  was  no  escaping  their  plain  meaning.  Trouble 
was  undoubtedly  brewing  among  the  Sioux,  trouble  in 
which  the  Cheyennes,  and  probably  others  also,  were 
becoming  involved.  Every  soldier  patrolling  that  long 
northern  border  recognized  the  approach  of  some  dire 
development,  some  early  coup  of  savagery.  Restless 
ness  pervaded  the  Indian  country;  recalcitrant  bands 


UNDER     ORDERS 

roamed  the  "  bad  lands ";  dissatisfied  young  warriors 
disappeared  from  the  reservation  limits  and  failed  to 
return;  while  friendly  scouts  told  strange  tales  of  weird 
dances  amid  the  brown  Dakota  hills.  Uneasiness,  the 
spirit  of  suspected  peril,  hung  like  a  pall  over  the 
plains  ;  yet  none  could  safely  predict  where  the  blow 
might  first  descend. 

Brant  was  not  blind  to  all  this,  nor  to  the 
necessity  of  having  in  readiness  selected  bodies  of 
seasoned  troops,  yet  it  was  not  in  soldier  nature  to 
refrain  from  grumbling  when  the  earliest  detail  chanced 
to  fall  to  him.  But  orders  were  orders  in  that  country, 
and  although  he  crushed  the  innocent  paper  passion 
ately  beneath  his  heel,  five  hours  later  he  was  in  saddle, 
riding  steadily  westward,  his  depleted  troop  of  horse 
men  clattering  at  his  heels.  Up  the  valley  of  the 
Bear  Water,  slightly  above  Glencaid, —  far  enough 
beyond  the  saloon  radius  to  protect  his  men  from 
possible  corruption,  yet  within  easy  reach  of  the  mili 
tary  telegraph, — they  made  camp  in  the  early  morn 
ing  upon  a  wooded  terrace  overlooking  the  stage  road, 
and  settled  quietly  down  as  one  of  those  numerous 
posts  with  which  the  army  chiefs  sought  to  hem  in  the 
dissatisfied  redmen,  and  learn  early  the  extent  of  their 
hostile  plans. 

Brant  was  now  in  a  humor  considerably  happier 
than  when  he  first  rode  forth  from  Bethune.  A  natural 
soldier,  sincerely  ambitious  in  his  profession,  anything 
approximating  to  active  service  instantly  aroused  his 
interest,  while  his  mind  was  ever  inclined  to  respond 
with  enthusiasm  to  the  fascination  of  the  plains  and 

[139] 


BOB     HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

the  hills  across  which  their  march  had  extended. 
Somewhere  along  that  journey  he  had  dropped  his 
earlier  burden  of  regret,  and  the  spirit  of  the  service 
had  left  him  cheerfully  hopeful  of  some  stern  soldierly 
work.  He  watched  the  men  of  his  troop  while  with 
quip  and  song  they  made  comfortable  camp ;  he  spoke 
a  few  brief  words  of  instruction  to  the  grave-faced  first 
sergeant,  and  then  strolled  slowly  up  the  valley,  his 
own  affairs  soon  completely  forgotten  in  the  beauty  of 
near-by  hills  beneath  the  golden  glory  of  the  morning 
sun.  Once  he  paused  and  looked  back  upon  ugly 
Glencaid,  dingy  and  forlorn  even  at  that  distance; 
then  he  crossed  the  narrow  stream  by  means  of  a  con 
venient  log,  and  clambered  up  the  somewhat  steep 
bank.  A  heavy  fringe  of  low  bushes  clung  close  along 
the  edge  of  the  summit,  but  a  plainly  defined  path  led 
among  their  intricacies.  He  pressed  his  way  through, 
coming  into  a  glade  where  sunshine  flickered  through 
the  overarching  branches  of  great  trees,  and  the  grass 
was  green  and  short,  like  that  of  a  well-kept  lawn. 

As  Brant  emerged  from  the  underbrush  he  sud 
denly  beheld  a  fair  vision  of  young  womanhood  rest 
ing  on  the  grassy  bank  just  before  him.  She  was 
partially  reclining,  as  if  startled  by  his  unannounced 
approach,  her  face  turned  toward  him,  one  hand  grasp 
ing  an  open  book,  the  other  shading  her  eyes  from 
the  glare  of  the  sun.  Something  in  the  graceful  poise, 
the  piquant,  uplifted  face,  the  dark  gloss  of  heavy  hair, 
and  the  unfrightened  gaze  held  him  speechless  until 
the  picture  had  been  impressed  forever  upon  his  mem 
ory.  He  beheld  a  girl  on  the  verge  of  womanhood, 

[HO] 


UNDER     O  RDERS 

fair  of  skin,  the  red  glow  of  health  flushing  her  cheeks, 
the  lips  parted  in  surprise,  the  sleeve  fallen  back  from 
one  white,  rounded  arm,  the  eyes  honest,  sincere, 
mysterious.  She  recognized  him  with  a  glance,  and 
her  lips  closed  as  she  remembered  how  and  when  they 
had  met  before.  But  there  was  no  answering  recollec 
tion  within  his  eyes,  only  admiration  —  nothing  clung 
about  this  Naiad  to  remind  him  of  a  neglected  waif  of 
the  garrison.  She  read  all  this  in  his  face,  and  the 
lines  about  her  mouth  changed  quickly  into  a  slightly 
quizzical  smile,  her  eyes  brightening. 

"You  should  at  least  have  knocked,  sir,"  she 
ventured,  sitting  up  on  the  grassy  bank,  the  better  to 
confront  him,  "  before  intruding  thus  uninvited." 

He  lifted  his  somewhat  dingy  scouting  hat  and 
bowed  humbly. 

"  I  perceived  no  door  giving  warning  that  I  ap 
proached  such  presence,  and  the  first  shock  of  sur 
prise  was  perhaps  as  great  to  me  as  to  you.  Yet,  now 
that  I  have  blundered  thus  far,  I  beseech  that  I  be 
permitted  to  venture  upon  yet  another  step." 

She  sat  looking  at  him,  a  trim,  soldierly  figure,  his 
face  young  and  pleasant  to  gaze  upon,  and  her  dark 
eyes  sensibly  softened. 

"  What  step  ?  " 

"  To  tarry  for  a  moment  beside  the  divinity  of  this 
wilderness/' 

She  laughed  with  open  frankness,  her  white  teeth 
sparkling  behind  the  red,  parted  lips. 

"  Perhaps  you  may,  if  you  will  first  consent  to  be 
sensible,"  she  said,  with  returning  gravity;  "and  I 

[HI] 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF      PLACER 

reserve  the  right  to  turn  you  away  whenever  you  begin 
to  talk  or  act  foolish.  If  you  accept  these  conditions, 
you  may  sit  down." 

He  seated  himself  upon  the  soft  grass  ledge, 
retaining  the  hat  in  his  hands.  "You  must  be  an  odd 
sort  of  a  girl,"  he  commented,  soberly,  "  not  to  wel 
come  an  honest  expression  of  admiration." 

"  Oh,  was  that  it  ?  Then  I  duly  bow  my  acknowl 
edgment.  I  took  your  words  for  one  of  those  silly 
compliments  by  which  men  believe  they  honor 


women." 


He  glanced  curiously  aside  at  her  half-averted 
face.  "At  first  sight  I  had  supposed  you  scarcely 
more  than  a  mere  girl,  but  now  you  speak  like  a 
woman  wearied  of  the  world,  utterly  condemning  all 
complimentary  phrases." 

"  Indeed,  no;  not  if  they  be  sincerely  expressed  as 
between  man  and  man." 

"  How  is  it  as  between  man  and  woman  ?  " 

"  Men  generally  address  women  as  you  started  to 
address  me,  as  if  there  existed  no  common  ground  of 
serious  thought  between  them.  They  condescend, 
they  flatter,  they  indulge  in  fulsome  compliment,  they 
whisper  soft  nonsense  which  they  would  be  sincerely 
ashamed  to  utter  in  the  presence  of  their  own  sex, 
they  act  as  if  they  were  amusing  babies,  rather  than 
conversing  with  intelligent  human  beings.  Their  own 
notion  seems  to  be  to  shake  the  rattle-box,  and 
awaken  a  laugh.  I  am  not  a  baby,  nor  am  I  seeking 
amusement." 

He  glanced  curiously  at  her  book.     "And    yet 


UNDER     ORDERS 

you  condescend  to  read  love  stories/'  he  said,  smil 
ing.  "  I  expected  to  discover  a  treatise  on  philos 
ophy." 

"  I  read  whatever  I  chance  to  get  my  hands  on, 
here  in  Glencaid,"  she  retorted,  "just  as  I  converse 
with  whoever  comes  along.  I  am  hopeful  of  some 
day  discovering  a  rare  gem  hidden  in  the  midst  of 
the  trash.  I  am  yet  young." 

"  You  are  indeed  young,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  and 
with  some  of  life's  lessons  still  to  learn.  One  is  that 
frankness  is  not  necessarily  flippancy,  nor  honesty 
harshness.  Beyond  doubt  much  of  what  you  said 
regarding  ordinary  social  conversation  is  true,  yet 
the  man  is  no  more  to  be  blamed  than  the  woman. 
Both  seek  to  be  entertaining,  and  are  to  be  praised 
for  the  effort  rather  than  censured.  A  stranger 
cannot  instinctively  know  the  likes  and  dislikes  of 
one  he  has  just  met ;  he  can  feel  his  way  only  by 
commonplaces.  However,  if  you  will  offer  me  a 
topic  worthy  the  occasion,  in  either  philosophy, 
science,  or  literature,  I  will  endeavor  to  feed  your 
mind." 

She  uplifted  her  innocent  eyes  demurely  to  his 
face.  "  You  are  so  kind.  I  am  deeply  interested 
just  now  in  the  Japanese  conception  of  the  transmi 
gration  of  souls." 

"  How  extremely  fortunate  !  It  chances  to  be  my 
favorite  theme,  but  my  mental  processes  are  peculiar, 
and  you  must  permit  me  to  work  up  toward  it  some 
what  gradually.  For  instance,  as  a  question  leading 
that  way,  how,  in  the  incarnation  of  this  world,  do 


BOB     HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

you  manage  to  exist  in  such  a  hole  of  a  place  ?  —  that 
is,  provided  you  really  reside  here." 

"Why,  I  consider  this  a  most  delightful  nook." 

"  My  reference  was  to  Glencaid." 

"  Oh !  Why,  I  live  from  within,  not  without. 
Mind  and  heart,  not  environment,  make  life,  and  my 
time  is  occupied  most  congenially.  I  am  being  faith 
fully  nurtured  on  the  Presbyterian  catechism,  and  also 
trained  in  the  graces  of  earthly  society.  These  alter 
nate,  thus  preparing  me  for  whatever  may  happen  in 
this  world  or  the  next." 

His  face  pictured  bewilderment,  but  also  a  determi 
nation  to  persevere.  "An  interesting  combination,  I 
admit.  But  from  your  appearance  this  cannot  always 
have  been  your  home  ?  " 

"  Oh,  thank  you.  I  believe  not  always  ;  but  I  won 
der  at  your  being  able  to  discern  my  superiority  to 
these  surroundings.  And  do  you  know  your  ques 
tioning  is  becoming  quite  personal  ?  Does  that  yield 
me  an  equal  privilege  ? " 

He  bowed,  perhaps  relieved  at  thus  permitting  her 
to  assume  the  initiative,  and  rested  lazily  back  upon 
the  grass,  his  eyes  intently  studying  her  face. 

"  I  suppose  from  your  clothes  you  must  be  a 
soldier.  What  is  that  figure  7  on  your  hat  for?" 

"  The  number  of  my  regiment,  the  Seventh  Cav 
alry." 

Her  glance  was  a  bit  disdainful  as  she  coolly 
surveyed  him  from  head  to  foot.  "  I  should  im 
agine  that  a  strong,  capable-appearing  fellow  like  you 
might  do  much  better  than  that.  There  is  so  much 


r 


44] 


UNDER     ORDERS 

work  in  the  world  worth  doing,  and  so  much  better 
pay." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Is  n't  a  soldier's  life  a 
worthy  one  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,  in  a  way.  We  have  to  have 
soldiers,  1  suppose  ;  but  if  I  were  a  man  I  'd  hate  to 
waste  all  my  life  tramping  around  at  sixteen  dollars  a 
month." 

He  smothered  what  sounded  like  a  rough  ejacula 
tion,  gazing  into  her  demure  eyes  as  if  he  strongly 
suspected  a  joke  hid  in  their  depths.  cc  Do  —  do  you 
mistake  me  for  an  enlisted  man  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  know ;  you  said  you  were  a  soldier, 
and  that 's  what  I  always  heard  they  got.  I  am  so 
glad  if  they  give  you  more.  I  was  only  going  to  say 
that  I  believed  I  could  get  you  a  good  place  in 
McCarthy's  store  if  you  wanted  it.  He  pays  sixty- 
five  dollars,  and  his  clerk  has  just  left." 

Brant  stared  at  her  with  open  mouth,  totally 
unable  for  the  moment  to  decide  whether  or  not  that 
innocent,  sympathetic  face  masked  mischief.  Before 
he  succeeded  in  regaining  confidence  and  speech,  she 
had  risen  to  her  feet,  holding  back  her  skirt  with  one 
hand. 

"  Really,  I  must  go,"  she  announced  calmly,  draw 
ing  back  toward  the  slight  opening  between  the 
bushes.  "  No  doubt  you  have  done  fully  as  well  as 
you  could,  considering  your  position  in  life ;  but 
this  has  proved  another  disappointment.  You  have 
fallen,  far,  very  far,  below  my  ideal.  Good-bye." 

He    sprang    instantly    erect,   his    cheeks    flushed. 

[145] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

cc  Please  don't  go  without  a  further  word.  We  seem 
predestined  to  misunderstand.  I  am  even  willing  to 
confess  myself  a  fool  in  the  hope  of  some  time  being 
able  to  convince  you  otherwise.  You  have  not  even 
told  me  that  you  live  here;  nor  do  I  know  your 


name." 


She  shook  her  head  positively,  repressed  merri 
ment  darkening  her  eyes  and  wrinkling  the  corners 
of  her  mouth.  "  It  would  be  highly  improper  to 
introduce  myself  to  a  stranger  —  we  Presbyterians 
never  do  that." 

"  But  do  you  feel  no  curiosity  as  to  who  I  may 
be?" 

"  Why,  not  in  the  least ;  the  thought  is  ridiculous. 
How  very  conceited  you  must  be  to  imagine  such  a 
thing!"  " 

He  was  not  a  man  easily  daunted,  nor  did  he  re 
call  any  previous  embarrassment  in  the  presence  of  a 
young  woman.  But  now  he  confronted  something 
utterly  unique ;  those  quiet  eyes  seemed  to  look  straight 
through  him.  His  voice  faltered  sadly,  yet  succeeded 
in  asking:  "  Are  we,  then,  never  to  meet  again?  Am 
I  to  understand  this  to  be  your  wish  ?  " 

She  laughed.  "  Really,  sir,  I  am  not  aware  that 
I  have  the  slightest  desire  in  the  matter.  I  have 
given  it  no  thought,  but  I  presume  the  possibility  of 
our  meeting  again  depends  largely  upon  yourself,  and 
the  sort  of  society  you  keep.  Surely  you  cannot 
expect  that  I  would  seek  such  an  opportunity  ? " 

He  bowed  humbly.  "You  mistake  my  pur 
pose.  I  merely  meant  to  ask  if  there  was  not  some 


UNDER     ORDERS 

possibility  of  our  again  coming  together  socially  —  in 
the  presence  of  mutual  friends." 

"Oh,  I  scarcely  think  so;  I  do  not  remember 
ever  having  met  any  soldiers  at  the  social  functions 
here — excepting  officers.  We  are  extremely  exclusive 
in  Glencaid,"  she  dropped  him  a  mocking  courtesy, 
"and  I  have  always  moved  in  the  most  exclusive  set." 

Piqued  by  her  tantalizing  manner,  he  asked, 
"  What  particular  social  functions  are  about  to  occur 
that  may  possibly  open  a  passage  -into  your  guarded 
presence?" 

She  seemed  immersed  in  thought,  her  face  turned 
partially  aside.  "  Unfortunately,  I  have  not  my  list 
of  engagements  here,"  and  she  glanced  about  at  him 
shyly.  "  I  can  recall  only  one  at  present,  and  I  am 
not  even  certain  —  that  is,  I  do  not  promise  —  to 
attend  that.  However,  I  may  do  so.  The  Miners' 
Bachelor  Club  gives  a  reception  and  ball  to-morrow 
evening  in  honor  of  the  new  schoolmistress." 

"  What  is  her  name  ?  "  with  responsive  eagerness. 

She  hesitated,  as  if  doubtful  of  the  strict  propriety 
of  mentioning  it  to  a  stranger. 

"Miss  Phoebe  Spencer,"  she  said,  her  eyes  cast 
demurely  down. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  in  open  triumph;  "and  have 
I,  then,  at  last  made  fair  capture  of  your  secret  ?  You 
are  Miss  Phoebe  Spencer." 

She  drew  back  still  farther  within  the  recesses  of 
the  bushes,  at  his  single  victorious  step  forward. 

"  I  ?  Why  certainly  not.  I  am  merely  Miss 
Spencer's  'star'  pupil,  so  you  may  easily  judge 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

something  of  what  her  superior  attainments  must 
necessarily  be.  But  I  am  really  going  now,  and  I 
sincerely  trust  you  will  be  able  to  secure  a  ticket  for 
to-morrow  night;  for  if  you  once  meet  this  Miss 
Spencer  you  will  never  yield  another  single  thought  to 
me,  Mr.  —  Mr. — "  her  eyes  dancing  with  laughter— 
"First  Lieutenant  Donald  Brant." 


[148] 


CHAPTER  IV 

SILENT  MURPHY 

BRANT  sprang  forward,  all  doubt  regarding  this 
young  woman  instantly  dissipated  by  those  final 
words  of  mischievous  mockery.  She  had  been 
playing  with  him  as  unconcernedly  as  if  he  were  a  mere 
toy  sent  for  her  amusement,  and  his  pride  was  stung. 
But  pursuit  proved  useless.  Like  a  phantom  she 
had  slipped  away  amid  the  underbrush,  leaving  him  to 
flounder  blindly  in  the  labyrinth.  Once  she  laughed 
outright,  a  clear  burst  of  girlish  merriment  ringing 
through  the  silence,  and  he  leaped  desperately  forward, 
hoping  to  intercept  her  flight.  His  incautious  foot 
slipped  along  the  steep  edge  of  the  shelving  bank,  and 
he  went  down,  half  stumbling,  half  sliding,  until  he 
came  to  a  sudden  pause  on  the  brink  of  the  little 
stream.  The  chase  was  ended,  and  he  sat  up,  con 
fused  for  the  moment,  and  half  questioning  the  evi 
dence  of  his  own  eyes. 

A  small  tent,  dirty  and  patched,  stood  with  its  back 
against  the  slope  of  earth  down  which  he  had  plunged. 
Its  flap  flung  aside  revealed  within  a  pile  of  disarranged 
blankets,  together  with  some  scattered  articles  of  wear 
ing  apparel,  while  just  before  the  opening,  his  back 
pressed  against  the  supporting  pole,  an  inverted  pipe 
between  his  yellow,  irregular  teeth,  sat  a  hideous  look 
ing  man.  He  was  a  withered,  dried-up  fellow,  whose 


BOB     HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

age  was  not  to  be  guessed,  having  a  skin  as  yellow  as 
parchment,  drawn  in  tight  to  the  bones  like  that  of  a 
mummy,  his  eyes  deep  sunken  like  wells,  and  his  head 
totally  devoid  of  hair,  although  about  his  lean  throat 
there  was  a  copious  fringe  of  iron-gray  beard,  un- 
trimmed  and  scraggy.  Down  the  entire  side  of 
one  cheek  ran  a  livid  scar,  while  his  nose  was  turned 
awry.  . 

He  sat  staring  at  the  newcomer,  unwinking,  his  facial 
expression  devoid  of  interest,  but  his  fingers  opening 
and  closing  in  apparent  nervousness.  Twice  his  lips 
opened,  but  nothing  except  a  peculiar  gurgling  sound 
issued  from  the  throat,  and  Brant,  who  by  this 
time  had  attained  his  feet  and  his  self-possession, 
ventured  to  address  him. 

"  Nice  quiet  spot  for  a  camp,"  he  remarked,  pleas 
antly,  "  but  a  bad  place  for  a  tumble/' 

The  sunken  eyes  expressed  nothing,  but  the  throat 
gurgled  again  painfully,  and  finally  the  parted  lips 
dropped  a  detached  word  or  two.  "  Blame  —  pretty 
girl  —  that." 

The  lieutenant  wondered  how  much  of  their  con 
versation  this  old  mummy  had  overheard,  but  he  hesi 
tated  to  question  him.  One  inquiry,  however,  sprang 
to  his  surprised  lips.  "  Do  you  know  her?  " 

"  Damn  sight —  better  —  than  any  one  around  here 
—  know  her — real  name." 

Brant  stared  incredulously.  "  Do  you  mean  to  in 
sinuate  that  that  young  woman  is  living  in  this  commu 
nity  under  an  assumed  one  ?  Why,  she  is  scarcely 
more  than  a  child !  What  do  you  mean,  man  ?  " 


SILENT      MURPHY 

The  soldier's  hat  still  rested  on  the  grass  where  it 
had  fallen,  its  military  insignia  hidden. 

"  I  guess  —  I  know  —  what  I  —  know, "  the  fellow 
muttered.  "  What 's  —  your  —  regiment  ? " 

"  Seventh  Cavalry." 

The  man  stiffened  up  as  if  an  electric  shock  had 
swept  through  his  limp  frame.     u  The  hell !  —  and  - 
did  —  she  —  call  you  —  Brant  ?  " 

The  young  officer's  face  exhibited  his  disgust. 
Beyond  doubt  that  sequestered  nook  was  a  favorite 
lounging  spot  for  the  girl,  and  this  disreputable 
creature  had  been  watching  her  for  some  sinister 
purpose. 

"  So  you  have  been  eavesdropping,  have  you  ?  " 
said  Brant,  gravely.  "  And  now  you  want  to  try  a 
turn  at  defaming  a  woman  ?  Well,  you  have  come  to 
a  poor  market  for  the  sale  of  such  goods.  I  am  half 
inclined  to  throw  you  bodily  into  the  creek.  I  believe 
you  are  nothing  but  a  common  liar,  but  I  '11  give  you 
one  chance  —  you  say  you  know  her  real  name. 
What  is  it?" 

The  eyes  of  the  mummy  had  become  spiteful. 
"It's  —  none  of — your  damn  —  business.  I'm  — 
not  under — your  orders." 

"  Under  my  orders  !  Of  course  not ;  but  what  do 
you  mean  by  that  ?  Who  and  what  are  you  ?  " 

The  fellow  stood  up,  slightly  hump-backed  but 
broad  of  shoulder,  his  arms  long,  his  legs  short  and 
somewhat  bowed,  his  chin  protruding  impudently,  and 
Brant  noticed  an  oddly  shaped  black  scar,  as  if  burned 
there  by  powder,  on  the  back  of  his  right  hand. 

['5'] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"Who  — am  I?"  he  said,  angrily.  "I'm  — 
Silent — Murphy." 

An  expression  of  bewilderment  swept  across  the 
lieutenant's  face.  "  Silent  Murphy  !  Do  you  claim 
to  be  Custer's  scout?" 

The  fellow  nodded.    "  Heard — of  me — maybe  ? " 

Brant  stood  staring  at  him,  his  mind  occupied  with 
vague  garrison  rumors  connected  with  this  odd  per 
sonality.  The  name  had  long  been  a  familiar  one,  and 
he  had  often  had  the  man  pictured  out  before  him, 
just  such  a  wizened  face  and  hunched-up  figure,  half 
crazed,  at  times  malicious,  yet  keen  and  absolutely 
devoid  of  fear ;  acknowledged  as  the  best  scout  in  all 
the  Indian  country,  a  daring  rider,  an  incomparable 
trailer,  tireless,  patient,  and  as  tricky  and  treacherous 
as  the  wily  savages  he  was  employed  to  spy  upon. 
There  could  remain  no  reasonable  doubt  of  his 
identity,  but  what  was  he  doing  there?  What 
purpose  underlay  his  insinuations  against  that  young 
girl?  If  this  was  indeed  Silent  Murphy,  he  assuredly 
had  some  object  in  being  there,  and  however  hastily 
he  may  have  spoken,  it  was  not  altogether  probable 
that  he  deliberately  lied.  All  this  flashed  across  his 
mind  in  that  single  instant  of  hesitation. 

"Yes,  I  Ve  heard  of  you/' — and  his  crisp  tone 
instinctively  became  that  of  terse  military  command, — 
"  although  we  have  never  met,  for  I  have  been  upon 
detached  service  ever  since  my  assignment  to  the  regi 
ment.  I  have  a  troop  in  camp  below,"  he  pointed 
down  the  stream,  "  and  am  in  command  here." 

The  scout  nodded  carelessly. 


SILENT      MURPHY 

"Why  did  you  not  come  down  there,  and  report 
your  presence  in  this  neighborhood  to  me?  " 

Murphy  grinned  unpleasantly.  "  Rather  be  — 
alone  —  no  report  —  been  over  —  Black  Range  —  tele 
graphed —  wait  orders. " 

"Do  you  mean  you  are  in  direct  communication 
with  headquarters,  with  Custer  ?  " 

The  man  answered,  with  a  wide  sweep  of  his  long 
arm  toward  the  northwest.  "Coin*  to  —  be  hell  —  out 
there  —  damn  soon." 

"How?  Are  things  developing  into  a  truly 
serious  affair  —  a  real  campaign  ?  " 

"Every  buck  —  in  the — Sioux  nation  —  is  makin' 
—  ferthe  —  bad  lands,"  and  he  laughed  noiselessly,  his 
nervous  fingers  gesticulating.  "I  —  guess  that  — 
means  —  business." 

Brant  hesitated.  Should  he  attempt  to  learn 
more  about  the  young  girl?  Instinctively  he  appreci 
ated  the  futility  of  endeavoring  to  extract  information 
from  Murphy,  and  he  experienced  a  degree  of  shame 
at  thus  seeking  to  penetrate  her  secret.  Besides,  it 
was  none  of  his  affair,  and  if  ever  it  should  chance  to 
become  so,  surely  there  were  more  respectable  means 
by  which  he  could  obtain  information.  He  glanced 
about,  seeking  some  way  of  recrossing  the  stream. 

"  If  you  require  any  new  equipment,"  he  said 
tersely,  "we  can  probably  supply  you  at  the  camp. 
How  do  you  manage  to  get  across  here? " 

Murphy,  walking  stiffly,  led  the  way  down  the 
steep  slope,  and  silently  pointed  out  a  log  bridging 
the  narrow  stream.  He  stood  watching  while  the 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

officer  picked  his  steps  across,  but  made  no  responsive 
motion  when  the  other  waved  his  hand  from  the 
opposite  shore,  his  sallow  face  looking  grim  and  un 
pleasant. 

"  Damn  —  the  luck!"  he  grumbled,  shambling 
back  up  the  bank.  "  It  don't  —  look  —  right.  Three 
of  'em  —  all  here — at  once  —  in  this  —  cussed  hole. 
Seems  if — this  yere  world — ought  ter  be  —  big 
'nough —  ter  keep  'em  apart;  —  but  hell  —  it  ain't. 
Might  make — some  trouble  —  if  them  —  people  — 
ever  git  —  their  heads  —  tergether  talkin'.  Hell  of  a 
note  —  if  the  boy  —  falls  in  love  with  —  her.  Likely 
to  do  it — too.  Curse  such  —  fool  luck.  Maybe 
I — better  talk  —  it  over  again  —  with  Red  —  he's  in 
it  —  damn  near  —  as  deep  as  —  I  am."  And  he  sank 
down  again  in  his  old  position  before  the  tent,  con 
tinuing  to  mutter,  his  chin  sunk  into  his  chest,  his 
whole  appearance  that  of  deep  dejection,  perhaps  of 
dread. 

The  young  officer  marched  down  the  road,  his 
heedless  feet  kicking  up  the  red  dust  in  clouds,  his 
mind  busied  with  the  peculiar  happenings  of  the  morn 
ing,  and  that  prospect  for  early  active  service  hinted 
at  in  the  brief  utterances  of  the  old  scout.  Brant  was 
a  thorough  soldier,  born  into  the  service  and  deeply 
enamored  of  its  dangers ;  yet  beyond  this  he  remained 
a  man,  a  young  man,  swayed  by  those  emotions  which 
when  at  full  tide  sweep  aside  all  else  appertaining 
to  life. 

Just  now  the  vision  of  that  tantalizing  girl  con 
tinued  to  haunt  his  memory,  and  would  not  down 

[154] 


SILENT      MURPHY 

even  to  the  glorious  hope  of  a  coming  campaign. 
The  mystery  surrounding  her,  her  reticence,  the  mut 
tered  insinuation  dropping  from  the  unguarded  lips 
of  Murphy,  merely  served  to  render  her  the  more 
attractive,  while  her  own  naive  witchery  of  manner, 
and  her  seemingly  unconscious  coquetry,  had  wound 
about  him  a  magic  spell,  the  full  power  of  which  as 
yet  remained  but  dimly  appreciated.  His  mind  lin 
gered  longingly  upon  the  marvel  of  the  dark  eyes, 
while  the  cheery  sound  of  that  last  rippling  outburst 
of  laughter  reechoed  in  his  ears  like  music. 

His  had  been  a  lonely  life  since  leaving  West 
Point  and  joining  his  regiment  —  a  life  passed  largely 
among  rough  men  and  upon  the  desolate  plains.  For 
months  at  a  time  he  had  known  nothing  of  refine 
ment,  nor  enjoyed  social  intercourse  with  the  opposite 
sex;  life  had  thus  grown  as  barren  and  bleak  as  those 
desert  wastes  across  which  he  rode  at  the  command  of 
his  superiors.  For  years  the  routine  of  his  military 
duties  had  held  him  prisoner,  crushing  out  the  dreams 
of  youth.  Yet,  beneath  his  mask  of  impassibility,  the 
heart  continued  to  beat  with  fierce  desire,  biding  the 
time  when  it  should  enjoy  its  own  sweet  way.  Per 
haps  that  hour  had  already  dawned;  certainly  some 
thing  new,  something  inspiring,  had  now  come  to 
awaken  an  interest  unfelt  before,  and  leave  him  idly 
dreaming  of  shadowed  eyes  and  flushed,  rounded 
cheeks. 

He  was  in  this  mood  when  he  overtook  the  Rev. 
Howard  Wynkoop  and  marked  the  thoughtful  look 
upon  his  pale  face. 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF      PLACER 

"I  called  at  your  camp,"  explained  Wynkoop, 
after  the  first  words  of  greeting  had  been  exchanged, 
"  as  soon  as  I  learned  you  were  here  in  command,  but 
only  to  discover  your  absence.  The  sergeant,  how 
ever,  was  very  courteous,  and  assured  me  there  would 
be  no  difficulty  in  arranging  a  religious  service  for  the 
men,  unless  sudden  orders  should  arrive.  No  doubt 
I  may  rely  on  your  cooperation." 

"  Most  certainly,"  was  the  cordial  response,  cc  and 
I  shall  also  permit  those  desiring  to  attend  your  regu 
lar  Sunday  services  so  long  as  we  are  stationed  here. 
How  is  your  work  prospering  ?  " 

"There  is  much  to  encourage  me,  but  spiritual 
progress  is  slow,  and  there  are  times  when  my  faith 
falters  and  I  feel  unworthy  of  the  service  in  which  I 
am  engaged.  Doubtless  this  is  true  of  all  labor,  yet 
the  minister  is  particularly  susceptible  to  these  influ 
ences  surrounding  him." 

"A  mining  camp  is  so  intensely  material  seven 
days  of  the  week  that  it  must  present  a  difficult  field 
for  the  awakening  of  any  religious  sentiment,"  con 
fessed  Brant  sympathetically,  feeling  not  a  little  inter 
ested  in  the  clear-cut,  intellectual  countenance  of  the 
other.  "I  have  often  wondered  how  you  consented 
to  bury  your  talents  in  such  a  place." 

The  other  smiled,  but  with  a  trace  of  sadness  in 
his  eyes.  "I  firmly  believe  that  every  minister 
should  devote  a  portion  of  his  life  to  the  doing  of 
such  a  work  as  this.  It  is  both  a  religious  and  a 
patriotic  duty,  and  there  is  a  rare  joy  connected 
with  it." 


SILENT      MURPHY 

"Yet  it  was  surely  not  joy  I  saw  pictured  within 
your  face  when  we  met;  you  were  certainly  troubled 
over  some  problem. " 

Wynkoop  glanced  up  quickly,  a  slight  flush  ris 
ing  in  his  pale  cheeks.  "  Perplexing  questions 
which  must  be  decided  off-hand  are  constantly  arising. 
I  have  no  one  near  to  whom  I  can  turn  for  advice  in 
unusual  situations,  and  just  now  I  scarcely  know  what 
action  to  take  regarding  certain  applications  for  church 
membership." 

Brant  laughed.  "  I  hardly  consider  myself  a  com 
petent  adviser  in  matters  of  church  polity,"  he  admit 
ted,  "yet  I  have  always  been  informed  that  all  so 
desiring  are  to  be  made  welcome  in  religious  fellow 
ship." 

"  Theoretically,  yes."  And  the  minister  stopped 
still  in  the  road,  facing  his  companion.  "  But  this 
special  case  presents  certain  peculiarities.  The  appli 
cants,  as  I  learn  from  others,  are  not  leading  lives 
above  reproach.  So  far  as  I  know,  they  have  never 
even  attended  church  service  until  last  Sunday,  and  I 
have  some  reason  to  suspect  an  ulterior  motive. 
I  am  anxious  to  put  nothing  in  the  way  of  any  hon 
estly  seeking  soul,  yet  I  confess  that  in  these 
cases  I  hesitate." 

"  But  your  elders?  Do  not  they  share  the  respon 
sibility  of  passing  upon  such  applications?  " 

The  flush  on  Mr.  Wynkoop's  cheeks  deepened, 
and  his  eyes  fell.  "  Ordinarily,  yes ;  but  in  this  case 
I  fear  they  may  prove  unduly  harsh.  I  —  I  feel 
—  that  these  applications  came  through  the  special 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

intercession  of  a  certain  young  lady,  and  I  am  anxious 
not  to  hurt  her  feelings  in  any  way,  or  to  discourage 
her  enthusiasm." 

"  Oh,  I  see !  Would  you  mind  telling  me  the 
names  of  the  two  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  Mr.  John  Moffat  and  Mr.  William  McNeil. 
Unfortunately,  I  know  neither  personally." 

"And  the  young  lady  ?  " 

"  A  Miss  Phoebe  Spencer ;  she  has  but  lately 
arrived  from  the  East  to  take  charge  of  our  new 
school  —  a  most  interesting  and  charming  young 
woman,  and  she  is  proving  of  great  assistance  to  me  in 
church  work." 

The  lieutenant  cleared  his  throat,  and  emitted  a 
sigh  of  suddenly  awakened  memory.  "  I  fear  I  can 
offer  you  no  advice,  for  if,  as  I  begin  to  suspect, — 
though  she  sought  most  bravely  to  avoid  the  issue  and 
despatch  me  upon  a  false  trail,  —  she  prove  to  be  that 
same  fascinating  young  person  I  met  this  morning,  my 
entire  sympathies  arc  with  the  gentlemen  concerned. 
I  might  even  be  strongly  tempted  to  do  likewise  at 
her  solicitation." 

"  You  ?  Why,  you  arrived  only  this  morning, 
and  do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  met  already  ?  " 

"  I  at  least  suspect  as  much,  for  there  can  scarcely 
exist  two  in  this  town  who  will  fill  the  description. 
My  memory  holds  the  vision  of  a  fair  young  face, 
vivacious,  ever  changing  in  its  expression,  yet  con 
stantly  both  piquant  and  innocent ;  a  perfect  wealth 
of  hair,  a  pair  of  serious  eyes  hiding  mysteries 
within  their  depths,  and  lips  which  seem  made  to  kiss. 


SILENT      MURPHY 

Tell  me,  is   not  this  a  fairly  drawn  portrait  of  your 
Miss  Spencer  ?  " 

The  minister  gripped  his  hands  nervously  together. 
"Your  description  is  not  unjust;  indeed,  it  is  quite 
accurate  from  a  mere  outer  point  of  view;  yet  beneath 
her  vivacious  manner  I  have  found  her  thoughtful, 
and  possessed  of  deep  spiritual  yearnings.  In  the 
East  she  was  a  communicant  of  the  Episcopal 
Church." 

Brant  did  not  answer  him  at  once.  He  was  study 
ing  the  minister's  downcast  face;  but  when  the  latter 
finally  turned  to  depart,  he  inquired,  "  Do  you  ex 
pect  to  attend  the  reception  to-morrow  evening? " 

Wynkoop  stammered  slightly.  "I — I  could 
hardly  refuse  under  the  circumstances ;  the  committee 
sent  me  an  especially  urgent  invitation,  and  I  under 
stand  there  is  to  be  no  dancing  until  late.  One  cannot 
be  too  straight-laced  out  here." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  apologizing.  I  see  no  reason 
why  you  need  hesitate  to  attend.  I  merely  wondered 
if  you  could  procure  me  an  invitation." 

"  Did  she  tell  you  about  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  delicately  hinted  at  it,  and,  you  know, 
things  are  pretty  slow  here  in  a  social  way.  She 
merely  suggested  that  I  might  possibly  meet  her  again 
there." 

"Of  course;  it  is  given  in  her  honor." 

"  So  I  understood,  although  she  sought  to  deceive 
me  into  the  belief  that  she  was  not  the  lady.  We  met 
purely  by  accident,  you  understand,  and  I  am  desirous 
of  a  more  formal  presentation." 

[<59] 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF      PLACER 

The  minister  drew  in  his  breath  sharply,  but  the 
clasp  of  his  extended  hand  was  not  devoid  of  warmth. 
"  I  will  have  a  card  of  invitation  sent  you  at  the  camp. 
The  committee  will  be  very  glad  of  your  presence ; 
only  I  warn  you  frankly  regarding  the  lady,  that  com 
petition  will  be  strong." 

"  Oh,  so  far  as  that  is  concerned  I  have  not  yet 
entered  the  running, "  laughed  Brant,  in  affected  care 
lessness,  "  although  I  must  confess  my  sporting  pro 
clivities  are  somewhat  aroused." 

He  watched  the  minister  walking  rapidly  away,  a 
short,  erect  figure,  appearing  slender  in  his  severely 
cut  black  cloth.  "  Poor  little  chap,"  he  muttered,  re 
gretfully.  "  He 's  hard  hit.  Still,  they  say  all 's  fair  in 
love  and  war. " 


[i  60] 


CHAPTER  V 

IN  HONOR  OF  Miss  SPENCER 

MR.  JACK  MOFFAT,  president  of  the  Bachelor 
Miners*  Pleasure  Club,  had  embraced  the  idea 
of   a  reception  for    Miss   Spencer    with    un 
bounded  enthusiasm.     Indeed,  the  earliest  conception 
of  such  an  event  found  birth  within  his  fertile  brain, 
and  from  the  first  he  determined  upon  making  it  the 
most  notable  social  function  ever  known  in  that  por 
tion  of  the  Territory. 

Heretofore  the  pastime  of  the  Bachelors'  Club  had 
been  largely  bibulous,  and  the  members  thereof  had 
exhibited  small  inclination  to  seek  the  ordinary 
methods  of  social  relaxation  as  practised  in  Glencaid. 
Pink  teas,  or  indeed  teas  of  any  conceivable  color,  had 
never  proved  sufficiently  attractive  to  wean  the  mem 
bers  from  the  chaste  precincts  of  the  Occidental  or 
the  Miners'  Retreat,  while  the  mysterious  pleasure  of 
"Hunt  the  Slipper"  and  "  Spat  in  and  Sptt  out "  had 
likewise  utterly  failed  to  inveigle  them  from  retire 
ment.  But  Mr.  Moffat's  example  wrought  an 
immediate  miracle,  so  that,  long  before  the  fateful 
hour  arrived,  every  registered  bachelor  was  laboring 
industriously  to  make  good  the  proud  boast  of  their 
enthusiastic  president,  that  this  was  going  to  be  "  the 
swellest  affair  ever  pulled  off  west  of  the  Missouri." 
The  large  space  above  the  Occidental  was  secured 
[161] 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

for  the  occasion,  the  obstructing  subdivisions  knocked 
away,  an  entrance  constructed  with  an  outside  stairway 
leading  up  from  a  vacant  lot,  and  the  passage  connect 
ing  the  saloon  boarded  up.  Incidentally,  Mr.  Moffat 
took  occasion  to  announce  that  if  "any  snoozer  got 
drunk  and  came  up  them  stairs  "  he  would  be  thrown 
bodily  out  of  a  window.  Mr.  McNeil,  who  was  ob 
serving  the  preliminary  proceedings  with  deep  inter 
est  from  a  pile  of  lumber  opposite,  sarcastically 
intimated  that  under  such  circumstances  the  attend 
ance  of  club  members  would  be  necessarily  limited. 
Mr.  Moffat's  reply  it  is  manifestly  impossible  to 
quote  literally.  Mrs.  GufFy  was  employed  to  provide 
the  requisite  refreshments  in  the  palatial  dining-hall 
of  the  hotel,  while  Buck  Mason,  the  vigilant  town 
marshal,  popularly  supposed  to  know  intimately  the 
face  of  every  "  rounder  "  in  the  Territory,  agreed  to 
collect  the  cards  of  invitation  at  the  door,  and  bar  out 
obnoxious  visitors. 

These  preliminaries  having  been  duly  attended  to, 
Mr.  Moffat  and  his  indefatigable  committee  of  arrange 
ments  proceeded  to  master  the  details  of  decoration 
and  entertainment,  drawing  heavily  upon  the  limited 
resources  of  the  local  merchants,  and  even  invading 
private  homes  in  search  after  beautifying  material. 
Jim  Lane  drove  his  buckboard  one  hundred  and  sixty 
miles  to  Cheyenne  to  gather  up  certain  needed  articles 
of  adornment,  the  selection  of  which  could  not  be  safe 
ly  confided  to  the  inartistic  taste  of  the  stage-driver. 
Upon  his  rapid  return  journey  loaded  down  with 
spoils,  Peg  Brace,  a  cow-puncher  in  the  "  Bar  O  " 


IN     HONOR     OF     MISS     SPENCER 

gang,  rode  recklessly  alongside  his  speeding  wheels  for 
the  greater  portion  of  the  distance,  apparently  in  most 
jovial  humor,  and  so  unusually  inquisitive  as  to  make 
Mr.  Lane,  as  he  later  expressed  it,  "  plum  tired." 
The  persistent  rider  finally  deserted  him,  however,  at 
the  ford  over  the  Sinsiniwa,  shouting  derisively  back 
from  a  safe  distance  that  the  Miners'  Club  was  a  lot  of 
chumps,  and  promising  them  a  severe  "jolt"  in  the 
near  future. 

Indeed,  it  was  becoming  more  and  more  apparent 
that  a  decided  feeling  of  hostility  was  fast  developing 
between  the  respective  partisans  of  Mofrat  and  Mc 
Neil.  Thus  far  the  feud  merely  smouldered,  finding 
occasional  expression  in  sarcastic  speech,  and  the 
severance  of  former  friendly  relations,  but  it  boded 
more  serious  trouble  for  the  near  future.  To  a  loyal 
henchman,  Moffat  merely  condescended  to  remark, 
glancing  disdainfully  at  a  knot  of  hard  riders  disconso 
lately  sitting  their  ponies  in  front  of  the  saloon  door, 
"We've  got  them  fellers  roped  and  tied,  gents, 
and  they  simply  won't  be  ace-high  with  the  ladies  of 
this  camp  after  our  fandango  is  over  with.  We're  a 
holdin'  the  hand  this  game,  an'  it  simply  sweeps  the 
board  clean.  That  duffer  McNeil's  the  sickest  look 
ing  duck  I  Ve  seen  in  a  year,  an'  the  whole  blame 
bunch  of  cow-punchers  is  corralled  so  tight  there  can't 
a  steer  among  'em  get  a  nose  over  the  pickets." 

He  glanced  over  the  waiting  scene  of  festivities 
with  intense  satisfaction.  From  bare  squalor  the 
spacious  apartment  had  been  converted  into  a  scene 
of  almost  gorgeous  splendor.  The  waxed  floor  was  a 


BOB     HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

perfect  marvel  of  smoothness ;  the  numerous  windows 
had  been  heavily  draped  in  red,  white,  and  blue  hang 
ings  ;  festoons  of  the  same  rich  hues  hung  gracefully 
suspended  from  the  ceiling,  trembling  to  the  least  cur 
rent  of  air;  oil  lamps,  upheld  by  almost  invisible 
wires,  dangled  in  profusion;  while  within  the  far 
corner,  occupying  a  slightly  raised  platform  later  to 
be  utilized  by  the  orchestra,  was  an  imposing  pulpit 
chair  lent  by  the  Presbyterian  Church,  resting  upon  a 
rug  of  skins,  and  destined  as  the  seat  of  honor  for  the 
fair  guest  of  the  evening.  Moffat  surveyed  all  this 
thoughtfully,  and  proceeded  proudly  to  the  hotel  to 
don  a  "boiled"  shirt,  and  in  other  ways  prepare  him 
self  to  do  honor  to  his  exalted  office.  Much  to  the 
surprise  of  McNeil,  lounging  with  some  cronies  on 
the  shaded  porch,  he  nodded  to  him  genially,  adding 
a  hearty,  "Hello  there,  Bill,"  as  he  passed  care 
lessly  by. 

The  invited  guests  arrived  from  the  sparsely  set 
tled  regions  round  about,  not  a  few  riding  for  a  hundred 
miles  over  the  hard  trails.  The  majority  came  early, 
arrayed  in  whatsoever  apparel  their  limited  wardrobes 
could  supply,  but  ready  for  any  wild  frolic.  The  men 
outnumbered  the  gentler  sex  five  to  one,  but  every 
feminine  representative  within  a  radius  of  about  fifty 
miles,  whose  respectability  could  possibly  pass  muster 
before  the  investigations  of  a  not  too  critical  invitation 
committee,  was  present  amid  the  throng,  attired  in  all 
the  finery  procurable,  and  supremely  and  serenely 
happy  in  the  assured  consciousness  that  she  would 
not  lack  partners  whenever  the  enticing  music  began. 


IN     HONOR     OF     MISS     SPENCER 

The  gratified  president  of  the  Pleasure  Club  had 
occasion  to  expand  his  chest  with  just  pride.  Jauntily 
twirling  his  silky  mustaches,  he  pushed  his  way 
through  the  jostling,  good-natured  crowd  already 
surging  toward  the  entrance  of  the  hall,  and  stepped 
briskly  forth  along  the  moonlit  road  toward  the 
Herndon  home,  where  the  fair  queen  of  the  revels 
awaited  his  promised  escort.  It  was  his  hour  of  su 
preme  triumph,  and  his  head  swam  with  the  delicious 
intoxication  of  well-earned  success,  the  plaudits  of  his 
admirers,  and  the  fond  anticipation  of  Miss  Spencer's 
undoubted  surprise  and  gratitude.  His,  therefore, 
was  the  step  and  bearing  of  a  conqueror,  of  one  whose 
cup  was  already  filled  to  the  brim,  and  running  over 
with  the  joy  of  life. 

The  delay  incident  to  the  completion  of  an  elab 
orate  toilet,  together  with  the  seductive  charms  of  a 
stroll  through  the  moon-haunted  night  beneath  the  spell 
of  bright  eyes  and  whispered  words,  resulted  in  a  later 
arrival  at  the  scene  of  festivities  than  had  been  intended. 
The  great  majority  of  the  expected  guests  had  already 
assembled,  and  were  becoming  somewhat  restless.  No 
favored  courtier  ever  escorted  beloved  queen  with 
greater  pride  or  ceremony  than  that  with  which  Mr. 
Moffat  led  his  blushing  charge  through  the  throng 
toward  her  chair  of  state.  The  murmuring  voices,  the 
admiring  eyes,  the  hush  of  expectancy,  all  contributed 
to  warm  the  cockles  of  his  heart  and  to  color  his  face 
with  the  glow  of  victory.  Glancing  at  his  companion, 
he  saw  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  head  held  proudly 
poised,  her  countenance  evidencing  the  enjoyment  of 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

the  moment,  and  he  felt  amply  rewarded  for  the 
work  which  had  produced  so  glorious  a  result.  A 
moment  he  bent  above  her  chair,  whispering  one 
last  word  of  compliment  into  the  little  ear  which 
reddened  at  his  bold  speech,  and  feasting  his  ardent 
eyes  upon  the  flushed  and  animated  counte 
nance.  The  impatient  crowd  wondered  at  the  nature 
of  the  coming  ceremony,  and  Mr.  Moffat  strove 
to  recall  the  opening  words  of  his  introductory 
address. 

Suddenly  his  gaze  settled  upon  one  face  amid  the 
throng.  A  moment  of  hesitation  followed;  then  a 
quick  whisper  of  excuse  to  the  waiting  divinity  in  the 
chair,  and  the  perturbed  president  pressed  his  way 
toward  the  door.  Buck  Mason  stood  there  on  guard, 
carelessly  leaning  against  the  post,  his  star  of  office 
gleaming  beneath  the  light. 

"Buck,"  exclaimed  Moffat,  "how  did  that  feller 
McNeil,  and  those  other  cow-punchers,  get  in  here? 
You  had  your  orders." 

Mason  turned  his  quid  deliberately  and  spat  at  the 
open  door.  "  You  bet  I  did,  Jack,"  he  responded 
cheerfully,  yet  with  a  trifle  of  exasperation  evident  in 
his  eyes.  "And  what's  more,  I  reckon  they  was 
obeyed.  There  ain't  nobody  got  in  yere  ternight 
without  they  had  a  cyard." 

"  Well,  there  has  ";  and  Moffat  forgot  his  natural 
caution  in  a  sudden  excess  of  anger.  "No  invitations 
was  sent  them  fellers.  Do  you  mean  to  say  they 
come  in  through  the  roof?" 

Mason  straightened  up,  his  face  darkening,  his 
[,66] 


IN     HONOR     OF     MISS     SPENCER 

clinched  fist  thrashing  the  air  just  in  front  of  Moffat's 
nose. 

"  1  say  they  come  in  yere,  right  through  this  door ! 
An*  every  mother's  son  of  'em  hed  a  cyard.  I  know 
what  I  'm  a-talkin'  about,  you  miserable  third-class 
idiot,  an*  if  you  give  me  any  more  of  your  lip  I  '11 
paste  you  good  an*  proper.  Go  back  thar  whar  you 
belong,  an*  tind  to  your  part  of  this  fandango;  I'm  a 
runnin'  mine." 

Moffat  hesitated,  his  brow  black  as  a  thunder 
cloud,  but  the  crowd  was  manifestly  growing  restless 
over  the  delay,  calling  "Time!"  and  "Play  ball!" 
and  stamping  their  feet.  Besides,  Buck  was  never 
known  to  be  averse  to  a  quarrel,  and  Moffat's  bump 
of  caution  was  well  developed.  He  went  back,  nurs 
ing  his  wrath  and  cursing  silently.  The  crowd  greeted 
his  reappearance  with  prolonged  applause,  and  some 
of  the  former  consciousness  of  victory  returned.  He 
glanced  down  into  the  questioning  eyes  of  Miss 
Spencer,  cleared  his  throat,  then  grasped  her  hand, 
and,  as  they  stood  there  together,  all  his  confidence 
came  surging  back. 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  of  Glencaid,"  he  began 
gracefully,  "as  president  of  the  Bachelor  Miners' 
Pleasure  Club,  it  affords  me  extreme  gratification  to 
welcome  you  to  this  the  most  important  social  event 
ever  pulled  off  in  this  Territory.  It's  going  to  be  a 
swell  affair  from  the  crack  of  the  starter's  pistol  to  the 
last  post,  and  you  can  bet  on  getting  your  money's 
worth  every  time.  That's  the  sort  of  hairpins  we 
are — all  wool  and  a  yard  wide.  Now,  ladies  and 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

gents,  while  it  is  not  designed  that  the  pleasure  of  this 
evening  be  marred  by  any  special  formalities,  any  such 
unnatural  restrictions  as  disfigure  such  functions  in 
the  effete  East  [applause],  and  while  I  am  only  too 
anxious  to  exclaim  with  the  poet,  c  On  with  the  dance, 
let  joy  be  unconfined'  [great  applause] ,  yet  it  must  be 
remembered  that  this  high-toned  outfit  has  been  got 
up  for  a  special,  definite  purpose,  as  a  fit  welcome  to 
one  who  has  come  among  us  with  the  high  and  holy 
object  of  instructing  our  offspring  and  elevating  the 
educational  ideals  of  this  community.  We,  of  this 
Bachelors'  Club,  may  possess  no  offspring  to  instruct, 
but  we  sympathize  with  them  others  who  have,  and 
desire  to  show  our  interest  in  the  work.  We  have 
here  with  us  to-night  one  of  the  loveliest  of  her  sex,  a 
flower  of  refinement  and  culture  plucked  from  the 
Eastern  hills,  who,  at  the  stern  call  of  duty,  has  left  her 
home  and  friends  to  devote  her  talents  to  this  labor 
of  love.  In  her  honor  we  meet,  in  her  honor  this 
room  has  been  decorated  with  the  colors  of  our  beloved 
country,  and  to  her  honor  we  now  dedicate  the  fleeting 
hours  of  this  festal  night.  It  is  impossible  for  her  to 
greet  you  all  personally,  much  as  she  wishes  to  do  so, 
but  as  president  of  the  Bachelor  Miners'  Pleasure 
Club,  and  also,"  with  a  deep  bow  to  his  blushing  and 
embarrassed  companion,  "  I  may  venture  to  add,  as 
an  intimate  friend  of  our  fair  guest,  I  now  introduce 
to  you  Glencaid's  new  schoolmistress  —  Miss  Phoebe 
Spencer.  Hip!  Hip!  Hurrah!'' 

Swinging    his    hand    high    above    his    head,    the 
enthusiastic  orator  led  the  noisy  cheers  which  instantly 

[168] 


IN     HONOR     OF     MISS     SPENCER 

burst  forth  in  unrestrained  volume;  and  before  which 
Miss  Spencer  shrank  back  into  her  chair,  trembling, 
yet  strangely  happy.  Good  humor  swayed  that 
crowd,  laughter  rippled  from  parted  lips,  while  voices 
here  and  there  began  a  spontaneous  demand  for  a 
speech.  Miss  Spencer  shook  her  flossy  head  helplessly, 
feeling  too  deeply  agitated  to  utter  a  word;  and 
Moffat,  now  oblivious  to  everything  but  the  important 
part  he  was  playing  in  the  brilliant  spectacle,  stepped 
before  her,  waving  the  clamorous  assembly  into  tem 
porary  and  expectant  silence. 

"  Our  charming  guest,"  he  announced,  in  tones 
vibrant  with  authority,  "is  so  deeply  affected  by  this 
spontaneous  outpouring  of  your  good-will  as  to  be 
unable  to  respond  in  words.  Let  us  respect  her 
natural  embarrassment ;  let  us  now  exhibit  that  proud 
Western  chivalry  which  will  cause  her  to  feel  perfectly 
at  home  in  our  midst.  The  orchestra  will  strike  up, 
and  amid  the  mazy  whirling  of  the  dance  we  will  at 
once  sink  all  formality,  as  becomes  citizens  of  this 
free  and  boundless  West,  this  land  of  gold,  of  sterling 
manhood,  and  womanly  beauty.  To  slightly  change 
the  poet's  lines,  written  of  a  similar  occasion : 

"There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night, 

And  proud  Glencaid  had  gathered  then 
Her  beauty  and  her  chivalry,  and  bright 

The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men." 

So,  scatter  out,  gents,  and  pick  up  your  partners  for 
the  first  whirl.  This  is  our  turn  to  treat,  and  our 
motto  is  'Darn  the  expense.'  " 

He  bent  over,  purposing  to  lead  the  lady  of  his 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

heart  forth  to  the  earliest  strains  of  the  violins,  his 
genial  smile  evidencing  his  satisfaction. 

"Say,  —  eh — just    hold    on — eh  —  a    minute!" 

Moffat  wheeled  about,  a  look  of  amazement  re 
placing  his  previous  jovial  smile.  His  eyes  hardened 
dangerously  as  they  encountered  the  face  of  McNeil. 
The  latter  was  white  about  the  lips,  but  primed  for 
action,  and  not  inclined  to  waste  time  in  preliminaries. 

"  Look  here,  this  ain't  your  time  to  butt  in  — " 
began  MofFat,  angrily,  but  the  other  waved  his  hand. 

"Say,  gents,  —  eh  —  that  feller  had  his  spiel  all 
right — eh  —  ain't  he?  He  wants  to  be  —  eh — the 
whole  hog,  but — eh, —  I  reckon  this  is  a  —  eh  —  free 
country,  ain't  it ?  Don't  I  have — eh — no  show?" 

"  Go  on,  Bill ! " 

"  Of  course  you  do." 

"  Make  Jack  Moffat  shut  up  !  " 

The  justly  indignant  president  of  the  Bachelors' 
Club  remained  motionless,  his  mouth  still  open, 
struggling  to  restrain  those  caustic  and  profane 
remarks  which,  in  that  presence,  he  dare  not  utter. 
He  instinctively  flung  one  hand  back  to  his  hip,  only 
to  remember  that  all  guns  had  been  left  at  the  door. 
McNeil  eyed  him  calmly,  as  he  might  eye  a  chained 
bear,  his  lips  parted  in  a  genial  smile. 

"I  —  eh  —  ain't  no  great  shakes  of  an  —  eh — 
orator, "  he  began,  apologetically,  waving  one  hand 
toward  his  gasping  rival,  "  like  Mr.  —  eh  —  Moffat. 
I  can't  sling  words  round  —  eh  —  reckless,  like 
the — eh  —  gent  what  just  had  the  floor,  ner  —  eh  — 
spout  poetry,  but  I  reckon — eh  —  I  kin  git  out  —  eh — 


IN     HONOR    OF     MISS     SPENCER 

'bout  what  I  got  to  say.  Mr.  MofFat  has  —  eh  — 
told  you  what  the  —  eh  —  Bachelor  Miners'  Club  —  eh 
—  has  been  a-doin'.  Fie  —  eh  —  spread  it  on  pretty 
blame  thick,  but — eh  —  I  reckon  they  ain't  — 
eh  —  all  of 'em  miners  round  this  yere — eh  —  camp. 
As  the — eh  —  president  of  the  —  eh — Cattlemen's 
Shakespearian  —  eh — Reading  Circle,  I  am  asked  to 
present  to — eh — Miss  Spencer  a  slight  token  —  eh 
— of  our  esteem,  and  —  eh  —  to  express  our  pleasure 
at  —  eh  —  being  permitted,"  he  bowed  to  the  choking 
Mr.  MofFat,  "eh  —  to  participate  in  this  —  eh  —  most 
glorious  occasion." 

He  stepped  forward,  and  dropped  into  Miss  Spen 
cer's  lap  a  small  plush-covered  box.  Her  fingers 
pressed  the  spring,  and,  as  the  lid  flew  open,  the 
brilliant  flash  of  a  diamond  dazzled  her  eyes.  She 
sat  staring  at  it,  unable  for  the  moment  to  find 
speech.  Then  the  assemblage  burst  into  an  unre 
strained  murmur  of  admiration,  and  the  sound  served 
to  arouse  her. 

"Oh,  how  beautifal  it  all  is ! "  she  exclaimed, 
rapturously.  "  I  hardly  know  what  to  say,  or  whom 
to  thank.  I  never  heard  of  anything  so  perfectly 
splendid  before.  It  makes  me  cry  just  to  remember 
that  it  is  all  done  for  me.  Oh,  Mr.  Moffat,  I  want 
to  thank,  through  you,  the  gentlemen  of  the  Bache 
lors'  Club  for  this  magnificent  reception.  I  know  I 
do  not  deserve  it,  but  it  makes  me  so  proud  to  realize 
the  interest  you  all  take  in  my  work.  And,  Mr. 
McNeil,  I  beg  you  to  return  my  gratitude  to  the  gentle 
men  of  the —  the  (oh,  thank  you)  —  the  Cattlemen's 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Shakespearian  Reading  Circle  (how  very  nice  of  you  to 
have  such  an  organization  for  the  study  of  higher  liter 
ature!)  for  this  superb  gift.  I  shall  never  forget  this 
night,  or  what  it  has  brought  me,  and  I  simply  cannot 
express  my  real  feelings  at  all ;  I  —  I  don't  know 
what  to  say,  or  —  or  what  to  do." 

She  paused,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  her 
body  shaken  with  sobs.  Moffat,  scarcely  knowing 
whether  to  swear  or  smile,  hastily  signalled  for  the 
waiting  musicians  to  begin.  As  they  swung  merrily 
into  waltz  measure  he  stepped  forward,  fully  confi 
dent  of  his  first  claim  for  that  opening  dance,  and 
vaguely  conscious  that,  once  upon  the  floor  with 
her,  he  might  thus  regain  his  old  leadership.  Miss 
Spencer  glanced  up  at  him  through  her  tears. 

"I — I  really  feel  scarcely  equal  to  the  attempt," 
she  murmured  nervously,  yet  rising  to  her  feet.  Then 
a  new  thought  seemed  suddenly  to  occur  to  her.  <c  Oh, 
Mr.  Moffat,  I  have  been  so  highly  favored,  and  I  am 
so  extremely  anxious  to  do  everything  I  can  to  show 
my  gratitude.  I  know  it  is  requesting  so  much  of  you 
to  ask  your  relinquishment  of  this  first  dance  with  me 
to-night.  As  president  of  the  Bachelors'  Club  it  is 
your  right,  of  course,  but  don't  you  truly  think  I  ought 
to  give  it  to  Mr.  McNeil  ?  We  were  together  all  the 
way  from  the  house,  you  know,  and  we  had  such  a 
delightful  walk.  You  wouldn  't  truly  mind  yielding 
up  your  claim  for  just  this  once,  would  you?  " 

Moffat  did  not  reply,  simply  because  he  could  not; 
he  was  struck  dumb,  gasping  for  breath,  the  room 
whirling  around  before  him,  while  he  stared  at  her 


IN     HONOR     OF     MISS    SPENCER 

with  dazed,  unseeing  eyes.     His  very  helplessness  to 
respond  she  naturally  interpreted  as  acquiescence. 

"  It  is  so  good  of  you,  Mr.  Moffat,  for  I  realize 
how  you  were  counting  upon  this  first  dance,  were  n  't 
you?  But  Mr.  McNeil  being  here  as  the  guest  of 
your  club,  I  think  it  is  perfectly  beautiful  of  you  to 
waive  your  own  rights  as  president,  so  as  to  ac 
knowledge  his  unexpected  contribution  to  the  joy  of 
our  evening."  She  touched  him  playfully  with  her 
hand,  the  other  resting  lightly  upon  McNeil's  sleeve, 
her  innocent,  happy  face  upturned  to  his  dazed  eyes. 
"  But  remember,  the  next  turn  is  to  be  yours,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  this  act  of  chivalry." 

It  is  doubtful  if  he  saw  her  depart,  for  the  entire 
room  was  merely  an  indistinct  blur.  He  was  too  des 
perately  angry  even  to  swear.  In  this  emergency,  Mr. 
Wynkoop,  dimly  realizing  that  something  unpleasant 
had  occurred,  sought  to  attract  the  attention  of  his  new 
parishioner  along  happier  lines. 

"  How  exceedingly  strange  it  is,  Mr.  Moffat,"  he 
ventured,  cc  that  beings  otherwise  rational,  and  possess 
ing  souls  destined  for  eternity,  can  actually  appear  to 
extract  pleasure  from  such  senseless  exercises  ?  I  do 
not  in  the  least  blame  Miss  Spencer,  for  she  is  yet 
young,  and  probably  thoughtless  about  such  matters, 
as  the  youthful  are  wont  to  be,  but  I  am,  indeed, 
rejoiced  to  note  that  you  do  not  dance." 

Moffat  wheeled  upon  him,  his  teeth  grinding  sav 
agely  together.  "  Shut  up!"  he  snapped,  fiercely,  and 
shaking  off  the  pastor's  gently  restraining  fingers,  shoul 
dered  his  passage  through  the  crowd  toward  the  door. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  LIEUTENANT  MEETS   Miss  SPENCER 

LIEUTENANT  BRANT  was  somewhat  de 
layed  in  reaching  the  scene  of  Miss  Spencer's 
social  triumph.  Certain  military  requirements 
were  largely  responsible  for  this  delay,  and  he  had 
patiently  wrestled  with  an  unsatisfactory  toilet,  mentally 
excoriating  a  service  which  would  not  permit  the 
transportation  of  dress  uniforms  while  on  scouting 
detail.  Nevertheless,  when  he  finally  stepped  forth 
into  the  brilliant  moonlight,  he  presented  an  interest 
ing,  soldierly  figure,  his  face  still  retaining  a  bit  of  the 
boy  about  it,  his  blue  eyes  bright  with  expectancy. 
That  afternoon  he  had  half  decided  not  to  go  at  all, 
the  glamour  of  such  events  having  long  before  grown 
dim,  but  the  peculiar  attraction  of  this  night  proved 
too  strong;  not  thus  easily  could  he  erase  from  mem 
ory  the  haunting  witchery  of  a  face.  Beyond  doubt, 
when  again  viewed  amid  the  conventionalities,  much 
of  its  imagined  charm  would  vanish ;  yet  he  would 
see  her  once  more,  although  no  longer  looking 
forward  to  drawing  a  prize. 

The  dance  was  already  in  full  swing,  the  exciting 
preliminaries  having  been  largely  forgotten  in  the  ex 
uberance  of  motion,  when  he  finally  pushed  his  way 
through  the  idle  loungers  gathered  about  the  door,  and 
gained  entrance  to  the  hall.  Many  glanced  curiously 


BRANT     MEETS     MISS     SPENCER 

at  him,  attracted  by  the  glitter  of  his  uniform,  but  he 
recognized  none  among  them,  and  therefore  passed 
steadily  toward  the  musicians'  stand,  where  there  ap 
peared  to  be  a  few  unoccupied  chairs. 

The  scene  was  one  of  color  and  action.  The  rapid, 
pulsating  music,  the  swiftly  whirling  figures,  the  quiv 
ering  drapery  overhead,  the  bright  youthful  faces,  the 
glow  of  numerous  lamps,  together  with  the  ceaseless 
voices  and  merry  shuffling  of  feet,  all  combined  to  cre 
ate  a  scene  sufficiently  picturesque.  It  was  altogether 
different  from  what  he  had  anticipated.  He  watched 
the  speeding  figures,  striving  in  vain  to  distinguish  the 
particular  one  whose  charms  had  lured  him  thither. 
He  looked  upon  fair  faces  in  plenty;  flushed  cheeks 
and  glowing  eyes  skurried  past  him,  with  swirling 
skirts  and  flashes  of  neatly  turned  ankles,  as  these 
enthusiastic  maids  and  matrons  from  hill  and  prairie 
strove  to  make  amends  for  long  abstinence.  But 
among  them  all  he  was  unable  to  distinguish  the 
wood-nymph  whose  girlish  frankness  and  grace  had 
left  so  deep  an  impression  on  his  memory.  Yet 
surely  she  must  be  present,  for,  to  his  understanding, 
this  whole  gay  festival  was  in  her  honor.  Directly 
across  the  room  he  caught  sight  of  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Wynkoop  conversing  with  a  lady  of  somewhat 
rounded  charms,  and  picked  his  way  in  their  direction. 

The  missionary,  who  had  yet  scarcely  recovered 
from  the  shock  of  Moffat's  impulsive  speech,  and 
who,  in  truth,  had  been  hiding  an  agonized  heart 
behind  a  smiling  face,  was  only  too  delighted  at  any 
excuse  which  would  enable  him  to  approach  Miss 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Spencer,  and  press  aside  those  cavaliers  who  were 
monopolizing  her  attention.  The  handicap  of  not 
being  able  to  dance  he  felt  to  be  heavy,  and  he  greeted 
the  lieutenant  with  unusual  heartiness  of  manner. 

"  Why,  most  assuredly,  my  dear  sir,  most  as 
suredly,"  he  said.  "  Mrs.  Herndon,  permit  me  to 
make  you  acquainted  with  Lieutenant  Brant,  "of  the 
Seventh  Cavalry." 

The  two,  thus  introduced,  bowed,  and  exchanged 
a  few  words,  while  Mr.  Wynkoop  busied  himself  in 
peering  about  the  room,  making  a  great  pretence  at 
searching  out  the  lady  guest,  who,  in  very  truth,  had 
scarcely  been  absent  from  his  sight  during  the  entire 
evening. 

"Ah!"  he  ejaculated,  "at  last  I  locate  her,  and, 
fortunately,  at  this  moment  she  is  not  upon  the  floor, 
although  positively  hidden  by  the  men  clustering 
about  her  chair.  You  will  excuse  us,  Mrs.  Herndon, 
but  I  have  promised  Lieutenant  Brant  a  presentation 
to  your  niece." 

They  slipped  past  the  musicians'  stand,  and  the 
missionary  pressed  in  through  the  ring  of  admirers. 

"Why,  Mr.  Wynkoop!"  and  she  extended  both 
hands  impulsively.  "And  only  to  think,  you  have 
never  once  been  near  me  all  this  evening;  you 
have  not  congratulated  me  on  my  good  fortune,  nor  ex 
hibited  the  slightest  interest!  You  don't  know  how 
much  I  have  missed  you.  I  was  just  saying  to  Mr. 
Moffat —  or  it  might  have  been  Mr.  McNeil  —  that  I 
was  completely  tired  out  and  wished  you  were  here  to 
sit  out  this  dance  with  me." 


BRANT     MEETS     MISS     SPENCER 

Wynkoop  blushed  and  forgot  the  errand  which  had 
brought  him  there,  but  she  remained  sufficiently  cool 
and  observant.  She  touched  him  gently  with  her  hand. 

"Who  is  that  fine-looking  young  officer?"  she 
questioned  softly,  yet  without  venturing  to  remove 
her  glance  from  his  face. 

Mr.  Wynkoop  started.  "  Oh,  exactly ;  I  had 
forgotten  my  mission.  He  has  requested  an  intro 
duction."  He  drew  the  lieutenant  forward.  "  Lieu 
tenant  Brant,  Miss  Spencer." 

The  officer  bowed,  a  slight  shadow  of  disappoint 
ment  in  his  eyes.  The  lady  was  unquestionably 
attractive,  her  face  animated,  her  reception  most 
cordial,  yet  she  was  not  the  maiden  of  the  dark, 
fathomless  eyes  and  the  wealth  of  auburn  hair. 

"Such  a  pleasure  to  meet  you,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Spencer,  her  eyes  uplifted  shyly,  only  to  become  at 
once  modestly  shaded  behind  their  long  lashes.  "  Do 
you  know,  Lieutenant,  that  actually  I  have  never 
before  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  an  officer  of  the 
army.  Why,  we  in  the  East  scarcely  realize  that  we 
possess  such  a  body  of  brave  men.  But  I  have  read 
much  regarding  the  border,  and  all  the  dreams  of  my 
girlhood  seem  on  the  point  of  realization  since  I  came 
here  and  began  mingling  in  its  free,  wild  life.  Your 
appearance  supplies  the  one  touch  of  color  that  was 
lacking  to  make  the  picture  complete.  Mr.  MofTat 
has  done  so  much  to  make  me  realize  the  breadth  of 
Western  experience,  and  now,  I  do  so  hope,  you  will 
some  time  find  opportunity  to  recount  to  me  some  of 
your  army  exploits." 

['77] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

The  lieutenant  smiled.  "Most  gladly;  yet  just 
now,  I  confess,  the  music  invites  me,  and  I  am  suf 
ficiently  bold  to  request  your  company  upon  the  floor." 

Miss  Spencer  sighed  regretfully,  her  eyes  sweep 
ing  across  those  numerous  manly  faces  surrounding 
them.  "Why,  really,  Lieutenant  Brant,  I  scarcely 
see  how  I  possibly  can.  I  have  already  refused  so 
many  this  evening,  and  even  now  I  almost  believe  I 
must  be  under  direct  obligation  to  some  one  of  those 
gentlemen.  Still,"  hesitatingly,  "your  being  a  total 
stranger  here  must  be  taken  into  consideration.  Mr. 
Moffat,  Mr.  McNeil,  Mr.  Mason,  surely  you  will 
grant  me  release  this  once  ?  " 

There  was  no  verbal  response  to  the  appeal,  only 
an  uneasy  movement ;  but  her  period  of  waiting  was 
extremely  brief. 

"Oh,  I  knew  you  would;  you  have  all  been  so 
kind  and  considerate."  She  arose,  resting  her  daintily 
gloved  hand  upon  Brant's  blue  sleeve,  her  pleased  eyes 
smiling  up  confidingly  into  his.  Then  with  a  charm 
ing  smile,  "  Oh,  Mr.  Wynkoop,  I  have  decided  to 
claim  your  escort  to  supper.  You  do  not  care  ? ' 

Wynkoop  bowed,  his  face  like  a  poppy. 

"  I  thought  you  would  not  mind  obliging  me  in 
this.  Come,  Lieutenant." 

Miss  Spencer,  when  she  desired  to  be,  was  a  most 
vivacious  companion,  and  always  an  excellent  dancer. 
Brant  easily  succumbed  to  her  sway,  and  became,  for 
the  time  being,  a  victim  to  her  charms.  They  circled  the 
long  room  twice,  weaving  their  way  skilfully  among 
the  numerous  couples,  forgetful  of  everything  but  the 


BRANT     MEETS     MISS     SPENCER 

subtile  intoxication  of  that  swinging  cadence  to  which 
their  feet  kept  such  perfect  time,  occasionally  exchang 
ing  brief  sentences  in  which  compliment  played  no 
insignificant  part.  To  Brant,  as  he  marked  the  height 
ened  color  flushing  her  fair  cheeks,  the  experience 
brought  back  fond  memories  of  his  last  cadet  ball  at 
the  Point,  and  he  hesitated  to  break  the  mystic  spell 
with  abrupt  questioning.  Curiosity,  however,  finally 
mastered  his  reticence. 

"  Miss  Spencer,"  he  asked,  "  may  I  inquire  if  you 
possess  such  a  phenomenon  as  a  c  star'  pupil  ?  " 

The  lady  laughed  merrily,  but  her  expression  be 
came  somewhat  puzzled.  "  Really,  what  a  very  strange 
question  !  Why,  not  unless  it  might  be  little  Sammy 
Worrell ;  he  can  certainly  use  the  longest  words  I  ever 
heard  of  outside  a  dictionary.  Why,  may  I  ask  ?  Are 
you  especially  interested  in  prodigies  ? " 

"  Oh,  not  in  the  least;  certainly  not  in  little  Sammy 
Worrell.  The  person  I  had  reference  to  chances  to  be 
a  young  woman,  having  dark  eyes,  and  a  wealth  of 
auburn  hair.  We  met  quite  by  accident,  and  the  sole 
clew  I  now  possess  to  her  identity  is  a  claim  she 
advanced  to  being  your  c  star'  pupil." 

Miss  Spencer  sighed  somewhat  regretfully,  and  her 
eyes  fell.  "  I  fear  it  must  have  been  Naida,  from  your 
description.  But  she  is  scarcely  more  than  a  child. 
Surely,  Lieutenant,  it  cannot  be  possible  that  you  have 
become  interested  in  her?" 

He  smiled  pleasantly.  "At  least  eighteen,  is 
she  not  ?  I  was  somewhat  impressed  with  her 
evident  originality,  and  hoped  to  renew  our  slight 


DOB     HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

acquaintanceship  here  in  more  formal  manner.  She 
is  your  'star'  pupil,  then?" 

"  Why,  she  is  not  really  in  my  school  at  all,  but 
I  outline  the  studies  she  pursues  at  home,  and  lend 
her  such  books  as  I  consider  best  adapted  for  her 
reading.  She  is  such  a  strange  girl ! " 

"Indeed?  She  appeared  to  me  to  be  extremely 
unconventional,  with  a  decided  tendency  for  mischief. 
Is  that  your  meaning?" 

"  Partially.  She  manages  to  do  everything  in  a 
different  way  from  other  people.  Her  mind  seems 
peculiarly  independent,  and  she  is  so  unreservedly 
Western  in  her  ways  and  language.  But  I  was  referring 
rather  to  her  taste  in  books  —  she  devours  everything." 

"  You  mean  as  a  student  ? " 

"  Well,  yes,  I  suppose  so ;  at  least  she  appears  to 
possess  the  faculty  of  absorbing  every  bit  of  informa 
tion,  like  a  sponge.  Sometimes  she  actually  startles 
me  with  her  odd  questions ;  they  are  so  unexpected 
and  abstruse,  falling  from  the  lips  of  so  young  a  girl. 
Then  her  ideas  are  so  crude  and  uncommon,  and  she 
is  so  frankly  outspoken,  that  I  become  actually  nervous 
when  I  am  with  her.  I  really  believe  Mr.  Wynkoop 
seeks  to  avoid  meeting  her,  she  has  shocked  him  so 
frequently  in  religious  matters." 

"  Does  she  make  light  of  his  faith  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  that  exactly,  at  least  it  is  not  her 
intention.  But  she  wants  to  know  everything — why 
we  believe  this  and  why  we  believe  that,  doctrines 
which  no  one  else  ever  dreams  of  questioning,  and  he 
cannot  seem  to  make  them  clear  to  her  mind.  Some 

[i  so] 


BRANT     MEETS     MISS     SPENCER 

cf  her  questions  are  so  irreverent  as  to  be  positively- 
shocking  to  a  spiritually  minded  person." 

They  lapsed  into  silence,  swinging  easily  to  the 
guidance  of  the  music.  His  face  was  grave  and 
thoughtful.  This  picture  just  drawn  of  the  perverse 
Naida  had  not  greatly  lowered  her  in  his  estimation, 
although  he  felt  instinctively  that  Miss  Spencer  was 
not  altogether  pleased  with  his  evident  interest  in 
another.  It  was  hardly  in  her  nature  patiently  to 
brook  a  rival,  but  she  dissembled  with  all  the  art  of 
a  clever  woman,  smiling  happily  up  into  his  face  as 
their  eyes  again  met. 

"  It  is  very  interesting  to  know  that  you  two  met 
in  so  unconventional  a  way,"  she  ventured,  softly, 
"  and  so  sly  of  her  not  even  to  mention  it  to  me.  We 
are  room-mates,  you  know,  and  consequently  quite 
intimate,  although  she  possesses  many  peculiar  char 
acteristics  which  I  cannot  in  the  least  approve.  But 
after  all,  Naida  is  really  a  good-hearted  girl  enough, 
and  she  will  probably  outgrow  her  present  irregular 
ways,  for,  indeed,  she  is  scarcely  more  than  a  child.  I 
shall  certainly  do  my  best  to  guide  her  aright.  Would 
you  mind  giving  me  some  details  of  your  meeting?" 

For  a  moment  he  hesitated,  feeling  that  if  the  girl 
had  not  seen  fit  to  confide  her  adventure  to  this  par 
ticular  friend,  it  was  hardly  his  place  to  do  so.  Then, 
remembering  that  he  had  already  said  enough  to 
arouse  curiosity,  which  might  easily  be  developed  into 
suspicion,  he  determined  his  course.  In  a  few  words 
the  brief  story  was  frankly  told,  and  apparently  proved 
quite  amusing  to  Miss  Spencer. 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"  Oh,  that  was  Naida,  beyond  a  doubt,"  she  ex 
claimed,  with  a  laugh  of  satisfaction.  "  It  is  all  so 
characteristic  of  her.  I  only  wonder  how  she  chanced 
to  guess  your  name;  but  really  the  girl  appears  to 
possess  some  peculiar  gift  in  thus  discerning  facts 
hidden  from  others.  Her  instincts  seem  so  finely 
developed  that  at  times  she  reminds  me  of  a  wild 
animal." 

This  caustic  inference  did  not  please  him,  but  he 
said  nothing,  and  the  music  coming  to  a  pause,  they 
slowly  traversed  the  room. 

"  I  presume,  then,  she  is  not  present  ? "  he  said, 
quietly. 

Miss  Spencer  glanced  into  his  face,  the  grave  tone 
making  her  apprehensive  that  she  might  have  gone 
too  far. 

"  She  was  here  earlier  in  the  evening,  but  now 
that  you  remind  me  of  it,  I  do  not  recall  having 
noticed  her  of  late.  But,  really,  Lieutenant,  it  is  no 
part  of  my  duty  to  chaperon  the  young  girl.  Mrs. 
Herndon  could  probably  inform  you  of  her  present 
whereabouts." 

Miss  Spencer  was  conscious  of  the  sting  of  failure, 
and  her  face  flushed  with  vexation.  "It  is  extremely 
close  in  here,  don't  you  think  ? "  she  complained. 
"And  I  was  so  careless  as  to  mislay  my  fan.  I  feel 
almost  suffocated." 

"  Did  you  leave  it  at  home  ? "  he  questioned. 
"  Possibly  I  might  discover  a  substitute  somewhere  in 
the  room." 

"Oh,  no;  I  would  never  think  of  troubling  you  to 


BRANT     MEETS     MISS     SPENCER 

such  an  extent.  No  doubt  this  feeling  of  lassitude 
will  pass  away  shortly.  It  was  very  foolish  of  me,  but 
I  left  the  fan  with  my  wraps  at  the  hotel.  It  can 
be  recovered  when  we  go  across  to  supper." 

In  spite  of  Miss  Spencer's  quiet  words  of  renunci 
ation,  there  was  a  look  of  pleading  in  her  shyly  uplifted 
eyes  impossible  to  resist.  Brant  promptly  surrendered 
before  this  masked  battery. 

"  It  will  be  no  more  than  a  pleasure  to  recover  it 
for  you/'  he  protested,  gallantly. 

The  stairs  leading  down  from  the  hall  entrance 
were  shrouded  in  darkness,  the  street  below  nearly 
deserted  of  loiterers,  although  lights  streamed  forth 
resplendently  from  the  undraped  windows  of  the 
Occidental  and  the  hotel  opposite.  Assisted  in  his 
search  by  Mrs.  Guffy,  the  officer  succeeded  in  recov 
ering  the  lost  fan,  and  started  to  return.  Just  with 
out  the  hotel  door,  under  the  confusing  shadows  of 
the  wide  porch,  he  came  suddenly  face  to  face  with  a 
young  woman,  the  unexpected  encounter  a  mutual  and 
embarrassing  surprise. 


CHAPTER  VII 
AN  UNUSUAL  GIRL 

THE  girl  was  without  wraps,  her  dress  of  some 
light,  fleecy  material    fitting  her  slender  figure 
exquisitely,  her    head  uncovered;    within    her 
eyes  Brant  imagined  he  could  detect  the  glint  of  tears. 
She  spoke  first,  her  voice  faltering  slightly. 
"  Will  you  kindly  permit  me  to  pass?'* 
He  stepped  instantly  to  one  side,  bowing  as  he 
did  so 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  such  seeming  rudeness," 
he  said,  gravely.  "  I  have  been  seeking  you  all  the 
evening,  yet  this  unexpected  meeting  caught  me  quite 


unawares." 


"You  have  been  seeking  me?  That  is  strange. 
For  what  reason,  pray  ?  " 

"  To  achieve  what  you  were  once  kind  enough  to 
suggest  as  possible  —  the  formality  of  an  introduction. 
It  would  seem,  however,  that  fate  makes  our  meet 
ings  informal. " 

"  That  is  your  fault,  not  mine. " 

"  I  gladly  assume  all  responsibility,  if  you  will  only 
waive  the  formality  and  accept  my  friendship." 

Her  face  seemed  to  lighten,  while  her  lips  twitched 
as  if  suppressing  a  smile.  "You  are  very  forgetful. 
Did  I  not  tell  you  that  we  Presbyterians  are  never 
guilty  of  such  indiscretions  ?  " 


AN     UNUSUAL     GIRL 

"  I  believe  you  did,  but  I  doubt  your  complete 
surrender  to  the  creed." 

"  Doubt!  Only  our  second  time  of  meeting,  and 
you  already  venture  to  doubt !  This  can  scarcely  be 
construed  into  a  compliment,  I  fear." 

"  Yet  to  my  mind  it  may  prove  the  very  highest 
type  of  compliment,"  he  returned,  reassured  by  her 
manner.  "  For  a  certain  degree  of  independence  in 
both  thought  and  action  is  highly  commendable. 
Indeed,  I  am  going  to  be  bold  enough  to  add  that  it 
was  these  very  attributes  that  awakened  my  interest  in 
you." 

"  Oh,  indeed ;  you  cause  me  to  blush  already.  My 
frankness,  I  fear,  bids  fair  to  cost  me  all  my  friends, 
and  I  may  even  go  beyond  your  pardon,  if  the  per 
verse  spirit  of  my  nature  so  move  me." 

"  The  risk  of  such  a  catastrophe  is  mine,  and  I 
would  gladly  dare  that  much  to  get  away  from  con 
ventional  commonplace.  One  advantage  of  such 
meetings  as  ours  is  an  immediate  insight  into  each 
other's  deeper  nature.  For  one  I  shall  sincerely  rejoice 
if  you  will  permit  the  good  fortune  of  our  chance 
meeting  to  be  alone  sponsor  for  our  future  friendship. 
Will  you  not  say  yes  ? " 

She  looked  at  him  with  greater  earnestness,  her 
young  face  sobered  by  the  words  spoken.  Whatever 
else  she  may  have  seen  revealed  there,  the  counte 
nance  bending  slightly  toward  her  was  a  serious, 
manly  one,  inspiring  respect,  awakening  confidence. 

"  And  I  do  agree,"  she  said,  extending  her  hand 
in  a  girlish  impulse.  "  It  will,  at  least,  be  a  new 


BOB     ;HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

experience  and  therefore  worth  the  trial.  I  will  even 
endeavor  to  restrain  my  rebellious  spirit,  so  that  you' 
will  not  be  unduly  shocked." 

He  laughed,  now  placed  entirely  at  his  ease. 
"Your  need  of  mercy  is  appreciated,  fair  lady.  Is  it 
your  desire  to  return  to  the  hall?  " 

She  shook  her  head  positively.  "  A  cheap,  gaudy 
show,  all  bluster  and  vulgarity.  Even  the  dancing  is 
a  mere  parody.  I  early  tired  of  it." 

"  Then  let  us  choose  the  better  part,  and  sit  here 
on  the  bench,  the  night  our  own." 

He  conducted  her  across  the  porch  to  the  darkest 
corner,  where  only  rifts  of  light  stole  trembling  in 
between  the  shadowing  vines,  and  there  found  con 
venient  seats.  A  moment  they  remained  in  silence, 
and  he  could  hear  her  breathing. 

"  Have  you  truly  been  at  the  hall,"  she  ques 
tioned,  "or  were  you  merely  fibbing  to  awaken  my 
interest  ?  " 

"  I  truly  have  been,"  he  answered,  "  and  actually 
have  danced  a  measure  with  the  fair  guest  of  the 
evening." 

"  With  Phoebe  Spencer  !  And  yet  you  dare  pre 
tend  now  to  retain  an  interest  in  me?  Lieutenant 
Brant,  you  must  be  a  most  talented  deceiver,  or  else 
the  strangest  person  I  ever  met.  Such  a  miracle  has 
never  occurred  before !  " 

"  Well,  it  has  certainly  occurred  now ;  nor  am  I 
in  this  any  vain  deceiver.  I  truly  met  Miss  Spencer. 
I  was  the  recipient  of  her  most  entrancing  smiles ;  I 
listened  to  her  modulated  voice ;  I  bore  her  off,  a 

[186] 


AN     UNUSUAL     GIRL 

willing  captive,  from  a  throng  of  despairing  ad 
mirers;  I  danced  with  her,  gazing  down  into  her 
eyes,  with  her  fluffy  hair  brushing  my  cheek,  yet 
resisted  all  her  charms  and  came  forth  thinking  only 
of  you." 

"Indeed?     Your  proof?" 

He  drew  the  white  satin  fan  forth  from  his  pocket, 
and  held  it  out  toward  her  with  mock  humility. 
"  This,  unbelieving  princess.  Despatched  by  the  fair 
lady  in  question  to  fetch  this  bauble  from  the  dressing- 
room,  I  forgot  my  urgent  errand  in  the  sudden  delight 
of  finding  you." 

"  The  case  seems  fully  proved,"  she  confessed, 
laughingly,  "  and  it  is  surely  not  my  duty  to  punish 
the  culprit.  What  did  you  talk  about?  But,  pshaw, 
I  know  well  enough  without  asking  —  she  told  you 
how  greatly  she  admired  the  romance  of  the  West, 
and  begged  you  to  call  upon  her  with  a  recital  of  your 
own  exploits.  Have  I  not  guessed  aright?" 

"Partially,  at  least;  some  such  expressions  were 
used." 

"  Of  course,  they  always  are.  I  do  not  know 
whether  they  form  merely  a  part  of  her  stock  in 
trade,  or  are  spoken  earnestly.  You  would  laugh  to 
hear  the  tales  of  wild  and  thrilling  adventure  which 
she  picks  up,  and  actually  believes.  That  Jack  Mof- 
fat  possesses  the  most  marvellous  imagination  for  such 
things,  and  if  I  make  fun  of  his  impossible  stories  she 
becomes  angry  in  an  instant." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  do  not  greatly  admire  this  Miss 
Spencer  ?  " 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"  Oh,  but  I  do  ;  truly  I  do.  You  must  not  think 
me  ungrateful.  No  one  has  ever  helped  me  more, 
and  beneath  this  mask  of  artificiality  she  is  really  a 
noble-hearted  woman.  I  do  not  understand  the 
necessity  for  people  to  lead  false  lives.  Is  it  this  way 
in  all  society — Eastern  society,  I  mean?  Do  men 
and  women  there  continually  scheme  and  flirt,  smile 
and  stab,  forever  assuming  parts  like  so  many  play 
actors  ? " 

"  It  is  far  too  common, "  he  admitted,  touched  by 
her  naive  questioning.  "  What  is  known  as  fashion 
able  social  life  has  become  an  almost  pitiful  sham,  and 
you  can  scarcely  conceive  the  relief  it  is  to  meet  with 
one  utterly  uncontaminated  by  its  miserable  deceits,  its 
shallow  make-believes.  It  is  no  wonder  you  shock 
the  nerves  of  such  people ;  the  deed  is  easily  ac 
complished." 

"But  I  do  not  mean  to."  And  she  looked  at  him 
gravely,  striving  to  make  him  comprehend.  "  I  try 
so  hard  to  be  —  be  commonplace,  and  —  and  satisfied. 
Only  there  is  so  much  that  seems  silly,  useless,  pitifully 
contemptible  that  I  lose  all  patience.  Perhaps  I  need 
proper  training  in  what  Miss  Spencer  calls  refinement; 
but  why  should  I  pretend  to  like  what  I  don't  like, 
and  to  believe  what  I  don't  believe  ?  Cannot  one  act 
a  lie  as  well  as  speak  one  ?  And  is  it  no  longer  right  to 
search  after  the  truth  ?  " 

"I  have  always  felt  it  was  our  duty  to  discover 
the  truth  wherever  possible,"  he  said,  thoughtfully; 
"yet,  I  confess,  the  search  is  not  fashionable,  nor  the 
earnest  seeker  popular." 

[188] 


AN     UNUSUAL     GIRL 

A  little  trill  of  laughter  flowed  from  between  her 
parted  lips,  but  the  sound  was  not  altogether  merry. 

"  Most  certainly  I  am  not.  They  all  scold  me,  and 
repeat  with  manifest  horror  the  terrible  things  I  say, 
being  unconscious  that  they  are  evil.  Why  should  I 
suspect  thoughts  that  come  to  me  naturally  ?  I  want 
to  know,  to  understand.  I  grope  about  in  the  dark. 
It  seems  to  me  sometimes  that  this  whole  world  is  a 
mystery.  I  go  to  Mr.  Wynkoop  with  my  questions, 
and  they  only  seem  to  shock  him.  Why  should  they  ? 
God  must  have  put  all  these  doubts  and  wonderings 
into  my  mind,  and  there  must  be  an  answer  for  them 
somewhere.  Mr.  Wynkoop  is  a  good  man,  I  truly 
respect  him.  I  want  to  please  him,  and  I  admire  his 
intellectual  attainments ;  but  how  can  he  accept  so  much 
on  faith,  and  be  content  ?  Do  you  really  suppose  he 
is  content  ?  Don't  you  think  he  ever  questions  as  I 
do  ?  or  has  he  actually  succeeded  in  smothering  every 
doubt  ?  He  cannot  answer  what  I  ask  him;  he  cannot 
make  things  clear.  He  just  pulls  up  a  few,  cheap, 
homely  weeds, —  useless  common  things, —  when  I  beg 
for  flowers;  he  hands  them  to  me,  and  bids  me  seek 
greater  faith  through  prayer.  I  know  I  am  a  perfect 
heathen, — Miss  Spencer  says  I  am, — but  do  you  think 
it  is  so  awful  for  me  to  want  to  know  these  things?" 

He  permitted  his  hand  to  drop  upon  hers,  and 
she  made  no  motion  of  displeasure. 

"  You  merely  express  clearly  what  thousands  feel 
without  the  moral  courage  to  utter  it.  The  saddest 
part  of  it  all  is,  the  deeper  we  delve  the  less  we  are  sat 
isfied  in  our  intellectual  natures.  We  merely  succeed 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

in  learning  that  we  are  the  veriest  pygmies.  Men 
like  Mr.  Wynkoop  are  simply  driven  back  upon  faith 
as  a  last  resort,  absolutely  baffled  by  an  inpenetrable 
wall,  against  which  they  batter  mentally  in  vain.  They 
have  striven  with  mystery,  only  to  meet  with  ignomini 
ous  defeat.  Faith  alone  remains,  and  I  dare  not  deny 
that  such  faith  is  above  all  knowledge.  The  pity  of  it  is, 
there  are  some  minds  to  whom  this  refuge  is  impossible. 
They  are  forever  doomed  to  be  hungry  and  remain 
unfed;  thirsty,  yet  unable  to  quench  their  thirst." 

"  Are  you  a  church  member  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Do  you  believe  those  things  you  do  not  under 
stand  ? " 

He  drew  a  deep  breath,  scarcely  knowing  at  that 
moment  how  best  to  answer,  yet  sincerely  anxious  to 
lead  this  girl  toward  the  light. 

"The  majority  of  men  do  not  talk  much  about 
such  matters.  They  hold  them  sacred.  Yet  I  will 
speak  frankly  with  you.  I  could  not  state  in  words 
my  faith  so  that  it  would  be  clearly  apprehended  by 
the  mind  of  another.  I  am  in  the  church  because  I 
believe  its  efforts  are  toward  righteousness,  because  I 
believe  the  teachings  of  Christ  are  perfect,  His  life 
the  highest  possible  type  of  living,  and  because 
through  Him  we  receive  all  the  information  regard 
ing  a  future  existence  which  we  possess.  That  my 
mind  rests  satisfied  I  do  not  say ;  I  simply  accept  what 
is  given,  preferring  a  little  light  to  total  darkness." 

"But  here  they  refuse  to  accept  any  one  like  that. 
They  say  I  am  not  yet  in  a  fit  state  of  mind." 

[190] 


AN     UNUSUAL     GIRL 

"Such  a  judgment  would  seem  to  me  narrow.  I 
was  fortunate  in  coming  under  the  influence  of  a 
broad-minded  religious  teacher.  To  my  statement  of 
doubts  he  simply  said :  c  Believe  what  you  can ;  live 
the  very  best  you  can,  and  keep  your  mind  open 
toward  the  light/  It  seems  to  me  now  this  is  all  that 
any  one  can  do  whose  nature  will  not  permit  of  blind, 
unquestioning  faith.  To  require  more  of  ordinary 
human  beings  is  unreasonable,  for  God  gave  us  mind 
and  ability  to  think." 

There  was  a  pause,  so  breathless  they  could  hear 
the  rustle  of  the  leaves  in  the  almost  motionless  air, 
while  the  strains  of  gay  music  floating  from  the  open 
windows  sounded  loud  and  strident. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  spoken  in  that  way," 
she  confessed.  "  I  shall  never  feel  quite  so  much 
alone  in  the  world  again,  and  I  shall  see  these 
matters  from  a  different  viewpoint.  Is  it  wrong  — 
unwomanly,  I  mean  —  for  me  to  question  spiritual 
things  ? " 

"  I  am  unable  to  conceive  why  it  should  be. 
Surely  woman  ought  to  be  as  deeply  concerned  in 
things  spiritual  as  man." 

"  How  very  strange  it  is  that  we  should  thus  drift 
into  such  an  intimate  talk  at  our  second  meeting ! " 
she  exclaimed.  "  But  it  seems  so  easy,  so  natural,  to 
converse  frankly  with  some  people  —  they  appear  to 
draw  out  all  that  is  best  in  one's  heart.  Then  there 
are  others  who  seem  to  parch  and  wither  up  every 
germ  of  spiritual  life." 

"  There  are  those  in  the  world  who  truly  belong 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

together,"  he  urged,  daringly.  "  They  belong  to  each 
other  by  some  divine  law.  They  may  never  be  priv 
ileged  to  meet ;  but  if  they  do,  the  commingling  of 
their  minds  and  souls  is  natural.  This  talk  of  ours 
to-night  has,  perhaps,  done  me  as  much  good  as  you." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  if  it  has !  I  —  I  do  not  believe 
you  and  Miss  Spencer  conversed  in  this  way  ?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  And  yet  it  might  puzzle  you 
to  guess  what  was  the  main  topic  of  our  conversation." 

"  Did  it  interest  you?  " 

"  Deeply." 

"Well,  then,  it  could  not  be  dress,  or  men,  or 
Western  romance,  or  society  in  Boston,  or  the  beauti 
ful  weather.  I  guess  it  was  books." 

"Wrong;   they  were  never  mentioned." 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  give  up,  for  I  do  not  re 
member  any  other  subjects  she  talks  about." 

"Yet  it  was  the  most  natural  topic  imaginable 
—  yourself." 

"You  were  discussing  me?  Why,  how  did  that 
happen  ? " 

"  Very  simply,  and  I  was  wholly  to  blame.  To  be 
perfectly  honest,  Miss  Naida,  I  attended  the  dance 
to-night  for  no  other  object  than  to  meet  you  again. 
But  I  had  argued  myself  into  the  belief  that  you  were 
Miss  Spencer.  The  discovery  of  my  mistake  merely 
intensified  my  determination  to  learn  who  you  really 
were.  With  this  purpose,  I  interviewed  Miss  Spen 
cer,  and  during  the  course  of  our  conversation  the 
facts  of  my  first  meeting  with  you  became  known." 

"  You  told  her  how  very  foolish  I  acted  ? " 


AN     UNUSUAL     GIRL 

"  I  told  her  how  deeply  interested  I  had  become 
in  your  outspoken  manner." 

"  Oh  !  And  she  exclaimed,  f  How  romantic! '  " 

"Possibly;  she  likewise  took  occasion  to  suggest 
that  you  were  merely  a  child,  and  seemed  astonished 
that  I  should  have  given  you  a  second  thought." 

"  Why,  I  am  eighteen." 

"  I  told  her  I  believed  you  to  be  of  that  age,  and 
she  ignored  my  remark.  But  what  truly  surprised 
both  of  us  was,  how  you  happened  to  know  my  name." 

The 'girl  did  not  attempt  to  answer,  and  she  was 
thankful  enough  that  there  was  not  sufficient  light  to 
betray  the  reddening  of  her  cheeks. 

"  And  you  do  not  mean,  even  now,  to  make  clear 
the  mystery  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  —  now,"  she  answered,  almost  timidly.  "  It 
is  nothing  much,  only  I  would  rather  not  now." 

The  sudden  sound  of  voices  and  laughter  in  the 
street  beneath  brought  them  both  to  their  feet. 

"  Why,  they  are  coming  across  to  supper,"  she  ex 
claimed,  in  surprise.  "How  long  we  have  been  here, 
and  it  has  seemed  scarcely  a  moment !  I  shall  certainly 
be  in  for  a  scolding,  Lieutenant  Brant;  and  I  fear  your 
only  means  of  saving  me  from  being  promptly  sent 
home  in  disgrace  will  be  to  escort  me  in  to  supper." 

"  A  delightful  punishment !  "  He  drew  her  hand 
through  his  arm, and  said:  "And  then  you  will  pledge 
me  the  first  dance  following?" 

"Oh,  you  mustn't   ask  me.      Really,  I   have  not 
been  on  the  floor  to-night;  I  am  not  in  the  mood." 
"  Do  you  yield  to  moods?" 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"Why,  of  course  I  do.  Is  it  not  a  woman's  privi 
lege?  If  you  know  me  long  it  will  be  to  find  me  all 
moods." 

"If  they  only  prove  as  attractive  as  the  particular 
one  swaying  you  to-night,  I  shall  certainly  have  no 
cause  for  complaint.  Come,  Miss  Naida,  please  culti 
vate  the  mood  to  say  yes,  before  those  others  arrive." 

She  glanced  up  at  him,  shaking  her  dark  hair,  her 
lips  smiling.  "  My  present  mood  is  certainly  a  good- 
natured  one,"  she  confessed,  softly,  "and  consequently 
it  is  impossible  to  say  no." 

His  hand  pressed  hers,  as  the  thronging  couples 
came  merrily  up  the  steps. 

"  Why,  Naida,  is  this  you,  child  ?  Where  have 
you  been  all  this  time?"  It  was  Miss  Spencer,  cling 
ing  to  Mr.  Wynkoop's  arm. 

"  Merely  sitting  out  a  dance,"  was  the  seemingly 
indifferent  answer;  then  she  added  sweetly,  "Have 
you  ever  met  my  friend,  Lieutenant  Brant,  of  the 
Seventh  Cavalry,  Phoebe?  We  were  just  going  in  to 
supper." 

Miss  Spencer's  glance  swept  over  the  silent 
young  officer.  "  I  believe  I  have  had  the  honor.  It 
was  my  privilege  to  be  introduced  to  the  gentleman  by 
a  mutual  friend." 

The  inward  rush  of  hungry  guests  swept  them  all 
forward  in  laughing,  jostling  confusion;  but  Naida's 
cheeks  burned  with  indignation. 


CT94] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  REAPPEARANCE  OF  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

AFTER  supper  the  Lieutenant  and  Naida  danced 
twice  together,  the  young  girl's  mood  having 
apparently  changed  to  one  of  buoyant,  careless 
happiness,  her  dark  eyes  smiling,  her  lips  uttering  freely 
whatever  thought  came  uppermost.  Outwardly  she 
pictured  the  gay  and  merry  spirit  of  the  night,  yet  to 
Brant,  already  observing  her  with  the  jealousy  of  a 
lover,  she  appeared  distrait  and  restless,  her  affec 
tation  of  abandon  a  mere  mask  to  her  true  feelings. 
There  was  a  peculiar  watchfulness  in  her  glances 
about  the  crowded  room,  while  her  flushed  cheeks, 
and  the  distinctly  false  note  in  her  laughter,  began  to 
trouble  him  not  a  little.  Perhaps  these  things  might 
have  passed  unnoted  but  for  their  contrast  with  the 
late  confidential  chat. 

He  could  not  reconcile  this  sudden  change  with 
what  he  believed  of  her.  It  was  not  carried  out 
with  the  practised  art  of  one  accustomed  to  deceit. 
There  must  be  something  real  influencing  her  action. 
These  misgivings  burdened  his  mind  even  as  he 
swung  lightly  with  her  to  the  music,  and  they  talked 
together  in  little  snatches. 

He  had  forgotten  Miss  Spencer,  forgotten  every 
thing  else  about  him,  permitting  himself  to  become 
enthralled  by  this  strange  girl  whose  name  even  he 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

did  not  know.  In  every  way  she  had  appealed  to  his 
imagination,  awakening  his  interest,  his  curiosity,  his 
respect,  and  even  now,  when  some  secret  seemed  to 
sway  her  conduct,  it  merely  served  to  strengthen  his 
resolve  to  advance  still  farther  in  her  regard.  There 
are  natures  which  welcome  strife ;  they  require  op 
position,  difficulty,  to  develop  their  real  strength. 
Brant  was  of  this  breed.  The  very  conception  that 
some  person,  even  some  inanimate  thing,  might  stand 
between  him  and  the  heart  of  this  fair  woman  acted 
upon  him  like  a  stimulant. 

The  last  of  the  two  waltzes  ended,  they  walked 
slowly  through  the  scattering  throng,  he  striving 
vainly  to  arouse  her  to  the  former  independence  and 
intimacy  of  speech.  While  endeavoring  bravely  to 
exhibit  interest,  her  mind  too  clearly  wandered,  and 
there  was  borne  in  slowly  upon  him  the  distasteful 
idea  that  she  would  prefer  being  left  alone.  Brant 
had  been  secretly  hoping  it  might  become  his  privilege 
to  escort  her  home,  but  now  he  durst  not  breathe  the 
words  of  such  a  request.  Something  indefinable  had 
arisen  between  them  which  held  the  man  dumb 
and  nerveless.  Suddenly  they  came  face  to  face 
with  Mrs.  Herndon,  and  Brant  felt  the  girl's  arm 
twitch. 

"  I  have  been  looking  everywhere  for  you,  Naida," 
Mrs.  Herndon  said,  a  slight  complaint  in  her  voice. 
"  We  were  going  home." 

Naida's  cheeks  reddened  painfully. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  if  I  have  kept  you  waiting/'  her 
words  spoken  with  a  rush,  "but  —  but,  Lieutenant 


AN     OLD     FRIEND 

Brant  was  intending    to    accompany    me.     We   were 
just  starting  for  the  cloak-room." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  Mrs.  Herndon's  expression  was 
noncommittal,  while  her  eyes  surveyed  the  lieutenant. 

"With  your  permission,  of  course,"  he  said. 

"  I  hardly  think  I  have  any  need  to  interfere." 

They  separated,  the  younger  people  walking 
slowly,  silently  toward  the  door.  He  held  her  arm, 
assisting  her  to  descend  the  stairway,  his  lips  murmur 
ing  a  few  commonplaces,  to  which  she  scarcely 
returned  even  monosyllabic  replies,  although  she  fre 
quently  flashed  shy  glances  at  his  grave  face.  Both 
realized  that  some  explanation  was  forthcoming,  yet 
neither  was  quite  prepared  to  force  the  issue. 

"  I  have  no  wraps  at  the  hotel,"  she  said,  as  he 
attempted  to  turn  that  way.  "That  was  a  lie  also  ;  let 
us  walk  directly  down  the  road." 

He  indulged  in  no  comment,  his  eyes  perceiving 
a  pathetic  pleading  in  her  upturned  face.  Suddenly 
there  came  to  him  a  belief  that  the  girl  was  crying ;  he 
could  feel  the  slight  tremor  of  her  form  against  his 
own.  He  glanced  furtively  at  her,  only  to  catch  the 
glitter  of  a  falling  tear.  To  her  evident  distress,  his 
heart  made  instant  and  sympathetic  response.  With 
all  respect  influencing  the  action,  his  hand  closed 
warmly  over  the  smaller  one  on  his  sleeve. 

"  Little  girl,"  he  said,  forgetting  the  shortness  of 
their  acquaintance  in  the  deep  feeling  of  the  moment, 
"  tell  me  what  the  trouble  is." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  me  an  awful  creature  for 
saying  that,"  she  blurted  out,  without  looking  up. 

['97] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"It  wasn't  ladylike  or  nice,  but  —  but  I  simply 
could  n't  help  it.  Lieutenant  Brant." 

"You  mean  your  sudden  determination  to  carry 
me  home  with  you?"  he  asked,  relieved  to  think  this 
might  prove  the  entire  difficulty.  "  Don't  let  that 
worry  you.  Why,  I  am  simply  rejoiced  at  being  per 
mitted  to  go.  Do  you  know,  I  wanted  to  request  the 
privilege  all  the  time  we  were  dancing  together.  But 
you  acted  so  differently  from  when  we  were  beneath 
the  vines  that  I  actually  lost  my  nerve." 

She  looked  up,  and  he  caught  a  fleeting  glimpse 
into  her  unveiled  eyes. 

"  I  did  not  wish  you  to  ask  me." 

"What?"  He  stopped  suddenly.  "Why  then 
did  you  make  such  an  announcement  to  Mrs. 
Herndon  ? " 

"  Oh,  that  was  different,"  she  explained,  uneasily. 
"  I  had  to  do  that ;  I  had  to  trust  you  to  help  me  out, 
but  —  but  I  really  wanted  to  go  home  alone." 

He  swept  his  unbelieving  eyes  around  over  the 
deserted  night  scene,  not  knowing  what  answer  to 
return  to  so  strange  an  avowal.  "Was  that  what 
caused  you  to  appear  so  distant  to  me  in  the  hall,  so 
vastly  different  from  what  you  had  been  before?  " 

She  nodded,  but  with  her  gaze  still  upon  the 
ground. 

"  Miss  Naida,"  he  said,  "  it  would  be  cowardly  for 
me  to  attempt  to  dodge  this  issue  between  us.  Is  it 
because  you  do  not  like  me  ? " 

She  looked  up  quickly,  the  moonlight  revealing 
her  flushed  face. 


AN     OLD     FRIEND 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  you  must  never  think  that.  I  told 
you  I  was  a  girl  of  moods ;  under  those  vines  I  had 
one  mood,  in  the  hall  another.  Cannot  you  under 
stand?" 

"  Very  little,"  he  admitted,  "for  I  am  more  inclined 
to  believe  you  are  the  possessor  of  a  strong  will 
than  that  you  are  swayed  by  moods.  Listen.  If  I 
thought  that  a  mere  senseless  mood  had  caused  your 
peculiar  treatment  of  me  to-night,  I  should  feel  justified 
in  yielding  to  a  mood  also.  But  I  will  not  lower  you 
to  that  extent  in  my  estimation ;  I  prefer  to  believe 
that  you  are  the  true-hearted,  frankly  spoken  girl  of 
the  vine  shadow.  It  is  this  abiding  conviction  as  to 
your  true  nature  which  holds  rne  loyal  to  a  test. 
Miss  Naida,  is  it  now  your  desire  that  I  leave  you  ?  " 

He  stepped  aside,  relinquishing  her  arm,  his  hat 
in  hand,  but  she  did  not  move  from  where  he  left  her. 

"  It  —  it  hurts  me,"  she  faltered,  "for  I  truly  desire 
you  to  think  in  that  way  of  me,  and  I  —  I  don't 
know  what  is  best  to  do.  If  I  tell  you  why  I 
wished  to  come  alone,  you  might  misunderstand;  and 
if  I  refuse,  then  you  will  suspect  wrong,  and  go  away 
despising  me." 

"  I  sincerely  wish  you  might  repose  sufficient 
confidence  in  me  as  a  gentleman  to  believe  I  never 
betray  a  trust,  never  pry  into  a  lady's  secret." 

"  Oh,  I  do,  Lieutenant  Brant.  It  is  not  doubt  of 
you  at  all ;  but  I  am  not  sure,  even  within  my  own 
heart,  that  I  am  doing  just  what  is  right.  Besides,  it 
will  be  so  difficult  to  make  you,  almost  a  stranger, 
comprehend  the  peculiar  conditions  which  influence  my 

L'99] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

action.  Even  now  you  suspect  that  I  am  deceitful  — 
a  masked  sham  like  those  others  we  discussed 
to-night;  but  I  have  never  played  a  part  before, 
never  skulked  in  the  dark.  To-night  I  simply  had 
to  do  it." 

Her  voice  was  low  and  pleading,  her  eyes  an 
appeal;  and  Brant  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to 
comfort. 

"  Then  attempt  no  explanation,'*  he  said,  gently, 
"and  believe  me,  I  shall  continue  to  trust  you.  To 
night,  whatever  your  wish  may  be,  I  will  abide  by  it. 
Shall  I  go,  or  stay?  In  either  case  you  have  nothing 
to  fear." 

She  drew  a  deep  breath,  these  open  words  of  faith 
touching  her  more  strongly  than  would  any  selfish 
fault-finding. 

"  Trust  begets  trust,"  she  replied,  with  new  firm 
ness,  and  now  gazing  frankly  into  his  face.  "  You  can 
walk  with  me  a  portion  of  the  way  if  you  wish,  but  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  the  truth,  —  I  have  an  appoint 
ment  with  a  man." 

"I  naturally  regret  to  learn  this,"  he  said,  with 
assumed  calmness.  "  But  the  way  is  so  lonely  I  pre 
fer  walking  with  you  until  you  have  some  other  pro 
tector." 

She  accepted  his  proffered  arm,  feeling  the  con 
straint  in  his  tone,  the  formality  in  his  manner,  most 
keenly.  An  older  woman  might  have  resented  it, 
but  it  only  served  to  sadden  and  embarrass  her.  He 
began  speaking  of  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  night,  but 
she  had  no  thought  of  what  he  was  saying. 

[200] 


AN     OLD     FRIEND 

"  Lieutenant  Brant,"  she  said,  at  last,  "  you  do  not 
ask  me  who  the  man  is." 

"  Certainly  not,  Miss  Naida ;  it  is  none  of  my 
business." 

"I  think,  perhaps,  it  might  be;  the  knowledge 
might  help  you  to  understand.  It  is  Bob  Hampton." 

He  stared  at  her.  "  The  gambler?  No  wonder, 
then,  your  meeting  is  clandestine." 

She  replied  indignantly,  her  lips  trembling.  "  He 
is  not  a  gambler ;  he  is  a  miner,  over  in  the  Black 
Range.  He  has  not  touched  a  card  in  two  years." 

"  Oh,  reformed  has  he?  And  are  you  the  instru 
ment  that  has  worked  such  a  miracle? " 

Her  eyes  fell.  "  I  don't  know,  but  I  hope  so." 
Then  she  glanced  up  again,  wondering  at  his  continued 
silence.  "  Don't  you  understand  yet?  " 

"  Only  that  you  are  secretly  meeting  a  man  of  the 
worst  reputation,  one  known  the  length  and  breadth 
of  this  border  as  a  gambler  and  fighter." 

"Yes;  but  —  but  don't  you  know  who  I  am?" 

He  smiled  grimly,  wondering  what  possible  differ 
ence  that  could  make.  "  Certainly ;  you  are  Miss 
Naida  Herndon." 

"  I  ?  You  have  not  known  ?  Lieutenant  Brant, 
I  am  Naida  Gillis." 

He  stopped  still,  again  facing  her.  "  Naida  Gillis  ? 
Do  you  mean  old  Gillis's  girl?  Is  it  possible  you  are 
the  same  we  rescued  on  the  prairie  two  years  ago? " 

She  bowed  her  head.  "  Yes ;  do  you  understand 
now  why  I  trust  this  Bob  Hampton?" 

"  I  perhaps  might  comprehend  why   you  should 

[2OI] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

feel  grateful  to  him,  but  not  why  you  should  thus  con 
sent  to  meet  with  him  clandestinely." 

He  could  not  see  the  deep  flush  upon  her  cheeks, 
but  he  was  not  deaf  to  the  pitiful  falter  in  her  voice. 

"  Because  he  has  been  good  and  true  to  me,"  she 
explained,  frankly,  "  better  than  anybody  else  in  all  the 
world.  I  don't  care  what  you  say,  you  and  those 
others  who  do  not  know  him,  but  I  believe  in  him  ;  I 
think  he  is  a  man.  They  won't  let  me  see  him,  the 
Herndons,  nor  permit  him  to  come  to  the  house.  He 
has  not  been  in  Glencaid  for  two  years,  until  yesterday. 
The  Indian  rising  has  driven  all  the  miners  out  from 
the  Black  Range,  and  he  came  down  here  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  get  a  glimpse  of  me,  and  learn  how  I 
was  getting  on.  I  —  I  saw  him  over  at  the  hotel  just 
for  a  moment  — Mrs.  GufTy  handed  me  a  note — and 
I  —  I  had  only  just  left  him  when  I  encountered  you 
at  the  door.  I  wanted  to  see  him  again,  to  talk  with 
him  longer,  but  I  could  n't  manage  to  get  away  from 
you,  and  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  There,  I've  told 
it  all ;  do  you  really  think  I  am  so  very  bad,  because 
—  because  I  like  Bob  Hampton?" 

He  stood  a  moment  completely  nonplussed,  yet 
compelled  to  answer. 

"  I  certainly  have  no  right  to  question  your  mo 
tives,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  and  I  believe  your  purposes 
to  be  above  reproach.  I  wish  I  might  give  the  same 
credit  to  this  man  Hampton.  But,  Miss  Naida,  the 
world  does  not  often  consent  to  judge  us  by  our  own 
estimation  of  right  and  wrong ;  it  prefers  to  place  its 
own  interpretation  on  acts,  and  thus  often  condemns 

[202] 


AN     OLD     FRIEND 

the  innocent.     Others  might  not  see  this  as  I  do,  nor 
have  such  unquestioning  faith  in  you.'* 

"I  know,"  she  admitted,  stubbornly,  "but  I 
wanted  to  see  him ;  I  have  been  so  lonely  for  him, 
and  this  was  the  only  possible  way/' 

Brant  felt  a  wave  of  uncontrollable  sympathy  sweep 
across  him,  even  while  he  was  beginning  to  hate  this 
man,  who,  he  felt,  had  stolen  a  passage  into  the 
innocent  heart  of  a  girl  not  half  his  age,  one  knowing 
little  of  the  ways  of  the  world.  He  saw  again  that 
bare  desert,  with  those  two  half-dead  figures  clasped 
in  each  other's  arms,  and  felt  that  he  understood 
the  whole  miserable  story  of  a  girl's  trust,  a  man's 
perfidy. 

"May  I  walk  beside  you  until  you  meet  him  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  You  will  not  quarrel  ? " 

"  No  ;  at  least  not  through  any  fault  of  mine." 

A  few  steps  in  the  moonlight  and  she  again  took 
his  arm,  although  they  scarcely  spoke.  At  the  bridge 
she  withdrew  her  hand  and  uttered  a  peculiar  call,  and 
Hampton  stepped  forth  from  the  concealing  bushes, 
his  head  bare,  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"  I  scarcely  thought  it  could  be  you,"  he  said, 
seemingly  not  altogether  satisfied,  "as  you  were  accom 
panied  by  another." 

The  younger  man  took  a  single  step  forward,  his 
uniform  showing  in  the  moonlight.  "  Miss  Gillis  will 
inform  you  later  why  I  am  here,"  he  said,  striving  to 
speak  civilly.  "  You  and  I,  however,  have  met  before  — 
I  am  Lieutenant  Brant,  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry." 

[203] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Hampton  bowed,  his  manner  somewhat  stiff  and 
formal,  his  face  inpenetrable. 

cc  I  should  have  left  Miss  Gillis  previous  to  her 
meeting  with  you,"  Brant  continued,  "  but  I  desired 
to  request  the  privilege  of  calling  upon  you  to-morrow 
for  a  brief  interview." 

"  With  pleasure." 

"  Shall  it  be  at  ten  ? " 

"  The  hour  is  perfectly  satisfactory.  You  will  find 
me  at  the  hotel." 

"You  place  me  under  obligations/*  said  Brant, 
and  turned  toward  the  wondering  girl.  "  I  will  now 
say  good-night,  Miss  Gillis,  and  I  promise  to  remem 
ber  only  the  pleasant  events  of  this  evening." 

Their  hands  met  for  an  instant  of  warm  pressure, 
and  then  the  two  left  behind  stood  motionless  and 
watched  him  striding  along  the  moonlit  road. 


[204] 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  VERGE  OF  A  QUARREL 

BRANT'S  mind  was  a  chaos  of  conflicting  emo 
tions,  but  a  single  abiding  conviction  never  once 
left  him  —  he  retained  implicit  faith  in  her,  and 
he  purposed  to  fight  this  matter  out  with  Hampton. 
Even  in  that  crucial  hour,  had  any  one  ventured  to 
suggest  that  he  was  in  love  with  Naida,  he  would 
merely  have  laughed,  serenely  confident  that  nothing 
more  than  gentlemanly  interest  swayed  his  conduct. 
It  was  true,  he  greatly  admired  the  girl,  recalled  to 
memory  her  every  movement,  her  slightest  glance, 
her  most  insignificant  word,  while  her  marvellous  eyes 
constantly  haunted  him,  yet  the  dawn  of  love  was  not 
even  faintly  acknowledged. 

Nevertheless,  he  manifested  an  unreasonable  dislike 
for  Hampton.  He  had  never  before  felt  thus  toward 
this  person;  indeed,  he  had  possessed  a  strong  man's 
natural  admiration  for  the  other's  physical  power  and 
cool,  determined  courage.  He  now  sincerely  feared 
Hampton's  power  over  the  innocent  mind  of  the  girl, 
imagining  his  influence  to  be  much  stronger  than  it 
really  was,  and  he  sought  after  some  suitable  means 
for  overcoming  it.  He  had  no  faith  in  this  man's 
professed  reform,  no  abiding  confidence  in  his  word  of 
honor;  and  it  seemed  to  him  then  that  the  entire 
future  of  the  young  woman's  life  rested  upon  his 

[205] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

deliverance  of  her  from  the  toils  of  the  gambler.  He 
alone,  among  those  who  might  be  considered  as  her 
true  friends,  knew  the  secret  of  her  infatuation,  and 
upon  him  alone,  therefore,  rested  the  burden  of  her 
release.  It  was  his  heart  that  drove  him  into  such 
a  decision,  although  he  conceived  it  then  to  be  the  rea 
soning  of  the  brain. 

And  so  she  was  Naida  Gillis,  poor  old  Gillis's  lit 
tle  girl !  He  stopped  suddenly  in  the  road,  striving  to 
realize  the  thought.  He  had  never  once  dreamed  of 
such  a  consummation,  and  it  staggered  him.  His 
thought  drifted  back  to  that  pale-faced,  red-haired, 
poorly  dressed  slip  of  a  girl  whom  he  had  occasionally 
viewed  with  disapproval  about  the  post-trader's  store 
at  Bethune,  and  it  seemed  simply  an  impossibility. 
He  recalled  the  unconscious,  dust-covered,  nameless 
waif  he  had  once  held  on  his  lap  beside  the  Bear 
Water.  What  was  there  in  common  between  that 
outcast,  and  this  well-groomed,  frankly  spoken  young 
woman  ?  Yet,  whoever  she  was  or  had  been,  the  re 
membrance  of  her  could  not  be  conjured  out  of  his 
brain.  He  might  look  back  with  repugnance  upon 
those  others,  those  misty  phantoms  of  the  past,  but 
the  vision  of  his  mind,  his  ever-changeable  divinity  of 
the  vine  shadows,  would  not  become  obscured,  nor 
grow  less  fascinating.  Let  her  be  whom  she  might,  no 
other  could  ever  win  that  place  she  occupied  in  his 
heart.  His  mind  dwelt  upon  her  flushed  cheeks,  her 
earnest  face,  her  wealth  of  glossy  hair,  her  dark  eyes 
filled  with  mingled  roguery  and  thoughtfulness,  —  in 
utter  unconsciousness  that  he  was  already  her  humble 

[206] 


THE     VERGE     OF     A     QUARREL 

slave.  Suddenly  there  occurred  to  him  a  recollection 
of  Silent  Murphy,  and  his  strange,  unguarded  remark. 
What  could  the  fellow  have  meant  ?  Was  there,  in 
deed,  some  secret  in  the  life  history  of  this  young 
girl?  —  some  story  of  shame,  perhaps?  If  so,  did 
Hampton  know  about  it  ? 

Already  daylight  rested  white  and  solemn  over  the 
silent  valley,  and  only  a  short  distance  away  lay  the 
spot  where  the  crippled  scout  had  made  his  solitary 
camp.  Almost  without  volition  the  young  officer 
turned  that  way,  crossed  the  stream  by  means  of  the 
log,  and  clambered  up  the  bank.  But  it  was  clear  at 
a  glance  that  Murphy  had  deserted  the  spot.  Con 
vinced  of  this,  Brant  retraced  his  steps  toward  the 
camp  of  his  own  troop,  now  already  astir  with  the 
duties  of  early  morning.  Just  in  front  of  his  tent  he 
encountered  his  first  sergeant. 

"  Watson,"  he  questioned,  as  the  latter  saluted  and 
stood  at  attention,  "  do  you  know  a  man  called  Silent 
Murphy?" 

The  scout  ?  Yes,  sir ;  knew  him  as  long  ago  as 
when  he  was  corporal  in  your  father's  troop.  He  was 
reduced  to  the  ranks  for  striking  an  officer." 

Brant  wheeled  in  astonishment.  "  Was  he  ever  a 
soldier  in  the  Seventh  ?  " 

"  He  was  that,  for  two  enlistments,  and  a  mighty 
tough  one ;  but  he  was  always  quick  enough  for  a  fight 
in  field  or  garrison." 

"  Has  he  shown  himself  here  at  the  camp  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  did  n't  know  he  was  anywhere  around. 
He  and  I  were  never  very  good  friends,  sir." 

[207] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

The  lieutenant  remained  silent  for  several  mo 
ments,  endeavoring  to  perfect  some  feasible  plan. 

"  Despatch  an  orderly  to  the  telegraph-office,"  he 
finally  commanded,  "  to  inquire  if  this  man  Murphy 
receives  any  messages  there,  and  if  they  know  where 
he  is  stopping.  Send  an  intelligent  man,  and  have 
him  discover  all  the  facts  he  can.  When  he  returns 
bring  him  in  to  me/' 

He  had  enjoyed  a  bath  and  a  shave,  and  was  yet 
lingering  over  his  coffee,  when  the  two  soldiers  entered 
with  their  report.  The  sergeant  stepped  aside,  and 
the  orderly,  a  tall,  boyish-looking  fellow  with  a  pugna 
cious  chin,  saluted  stiffly. 

"Well,  Bane,"  and  the  officer  eyed  his  trim  ap 
pearance  with  manifest  approval,  "  what  did  you 
succeed  in  learning  ? " 

"The  operator  said  this  yere  Murphy  hed  never 
bin  thar  himself,  sir,  but  there  wus  several  messages 
come  fer  him.  One  got  here  this  mornin'.  " 

"  What  becomes  of  them  ? " 

"They're  called  fer  by  another  feller,  sir." 

"  Oh,  they  are !     Who  ?  " 

"  Red  Slavin  wus  the  name  he  give  me  of  thet 
other  buck." 

When  the  two  had  disappeared,  Brant  sat  back 
thinking  rapidly.  There  was  a  mystery  here,  and 
such  actions  must  have  a  cause.  Something  either  in 
or  about  Glencaid  was  compelling  Murphy  to  keep  out 
of  sight — but  what?  Who?  Brant  was  unable  to 
get  it  out  of  his  head  that  all  this  secrecy  centred 
around  Naida.  With  those  incautiously  spoken 

[008] 


THE    VERGE     OF    A     QUARREL 

words  as  a  clew,  he  suspected  that  Murphy  knew 
something  about  her,  and  that  knowledge  was  the 
cause  for  his  present  erratic  actions.  Perhaps  Hamp 
ton  knew;  at  least  he  might  possess  some  additional 
scrap  of  information  which  would  help  to  solve  the 
problem.  He  looked  at  his  watch,  and  ordered  his 
horse  to  be  saddled. 

It  did  not  seem  quite  so  simple  now,  this  pro 
jected  interview  with  Hampton,  as  it  had  appeared  the 
night  before.  In  the  clear  light  of  day,  he  began  to 
realize  the  weakness  of  his  position,  the  fact  that  he 
possessed  not  the  smallest  right  to  speak  on  behalf 
of  Naida  Gillis.  He  held  no  relationship  whatsoever 
to  her,  and  should  he  venture  to  assume  any,  it  was 
highly  probable  the  older  man  would  laugh  contempt 
uously  in  his  face.  Brant  knew  better  than  to  believe 
Hampton  would  ever  let  go  unless  he  was  obliged  to 
do  so  ;  he  comprehended  the  impotence  of  threats  on 
such  a  character,  as  well  as  his  probable  indifference 
to  moral  obligations.  Nevertheless,  the  die  was  cast, 
and  perhaps,  provided  an  open  quarrel  could  be 
avoided,  the  meeting  might  result  in  good  to  all 
concerned. 

Hampton  welcomed  him  with  distant  but  marked 
courtesy,  having  evidently  thought  out  his  own  im 
mediate  plan  of  action,  and  schooled  himself  accord 
ingly.  Standing  there,  the  bright  light  streaming  over 
them  from  the  open  windows,  they  presented  two  widely 
contrasting  personalities,  yet  each  exhibiting  in  figure 
and  face  the  evidences  of  hard  training  and  iron  dis 
cipline.  Hampton  was  clothed  in  black,  standing 

[209] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

straight  as  an  arrow,  his  shoulders  squared,  his  head 
held  proudly  erect,  while  his  cool  gray  eyes  studied 
the  face  of  the  other  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  sur 
vey  his  opponents  at  the  card-table.  Brant  looked  the 
picture  of  a  soldier  on  duty,  trim,  well  built,  erect,  his 
resolute  blue  eyes  never  flinching  from  the  steady  gaze 
bent  upon  him,  his  bronzed  young  face  grave  from  the 
seriousness  of  his  mission.  Neither  was  a  man  to 
temporize,  to  mince  words,  or  to  withhold  blows ;  yet 
each  instinctively  felt  that  this  was  an  occasion  rather 
for  self-restraint.  In  both  minds  the  same  thought 
lingered  —  the  vague  wonder  how  much  the  other 
knew.  The  elder  man,  however,  retained  the  better 
self-control,  and  was  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"Miss  Gillis  informed  me  of  your  kindness  to  her 
last  evening,"  he  said,  quietly,  "and  in  her  behalf  I 
sincerely  thank  you.  Permit  me  to  offer  you  a  chair." 

Brant  accepted  it,  and  sat  down,  feeling  the  calm  tone 
of  proprietorship  in  the  words  of  the  other  as  if  they 
had  been  a  blow.  His  face  flushed,  yet  he  spoke 
firmly.  "Possibly  I  misconstrue  your  meaning,"  he 
said,  with  some  bluntness,  determined  to  reach  the  gist 
of  the  matter  at  once.  "  Did  Miss  Gillis  authorize 
you  to  thank  me  for  these  courtesies  ? " 

Hampton  smiled  with  provoking  calmness,  holding 
an  unlighted  cigar  between  his  fingers.  "Why,  really, 
as  to  that  I  do  not  remember.  I  merely  mentioned 
it  as  expressing  the  natural  gratitude  of  us  both." 

"  You  speak  as  if  you  possessed  full  authority  to 
express  her  mind  as  well  as  your  own." 

The    other    bowed    gravely,   his    face    impassive. 


THE     VERGE     OF     A     QUARREL 

"My  words   would   quite  naturally   bear  some    such 


construction." 


The  officer  hesitated,  feeling  more  doubtful  than 
ever  regarding  his  own  position.  Chagrined,  dis 
armed,  he  felt  like  a  prisoner  standing  bound  before 
his  mocking  captor.  "  Then  I  fear  my  mission  here 
is  useless." 

"Entirely  so,  if  you  come  for  the  purpose  I 
suspect,"  said  Hampton,  sitting  erect  in  his  chair,  and 
speaking  with  more  rapid  utterance.  "  To  lecture  me 
on  morality,  and  demand  my  yielding  up  all  influence 
over  this  girl, — such  a  mission  is  assured  of  failure. 
I  have  listened  with  some  degree  of  calmness  in  this 
room  already  to  one  such  address,  and  surrendered 
to  its  reasoning.  But  permit  me  to  say  quite  plainly, 
Lieutenant  Brant,  that  you  are  not  the  person  from 
whom  I  will  quietly  listen  to  another." 

"  I  had  very  little  expectation  that  you  would." 

"You  should  have  had  still  less,  and  remained 
away  entirely.  However,  now  that  you  are  here,  and 
the  subject  broached,  it  becomes  my  turn  to  say  some 
thing,  and  to  say  it  clearly.  It  seems  to  me  you  would 
exhibit  far  better  taste  and  discrimination  if  from  now 
on  you  would  cease  forcing  your  attentions  upon 
Miss  Gillis." 

Brant  leaped  to  his  feet,  but  the  other  never 
deigned  to  alter  his  position. 

"  Forcing  my  attentions ! "  exclaimed  the  officer. 
"  God's  mercy,  man !  do  you  realize  what  you  are 
saying?  I  have  forced  no  attentions  upon  Miss 
Gillis." 

[211] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"  My  reference  was  rather  to  future  possibilities. 
Young  blood  is  proverbially  hot,  and  I  thought  it 
wise  to  warn  you  in  time." 

Brant  stared  into  that  imperturbable  face,  and 
somehow  the  very  sight  of  its  calm,  inflexible  resolve 
served  to  clear  his  own  brain.  He  felt  that  this  cool, 
self-controlled  man  was  speaking  with  authority. 

"Wait  just  a  moment,"  he  said,  at  last.  "I  wish  this 
made  perfectly  clear,  and  for  all  time.  I  met  Miss  Gillis 
first  through  pure  accident.  She  impressed  me  strongly 
then,  and  I  confess  I  have  since  grown  more  deeply 
interested  in  her  personality.  I  have  reasons  to  sup 
pose  my  presence  not  altogether  distasteful  to  her,  and 
she  has  certainly  shown  that  she  reposed  confidence  in 
me.  Not  until  late  last  night  did  I  even  suspect  she 
was  the  same  girl  whom  we  picked  up  with  you  out 
on  the  desert.  It  came  to  me  from  her  own  lips  and 
was  a  total  surprise.  She  revealed  her  identity  in 
order  to  justify  her  proposed  clandestine  meeting  with 
you." 

"  And  hence  you  requested  this  pleasant  confer 
ence,"  broke  in  Hampton,  coolly,  "to  inform  me,  from 
your  calm  eminence  of  respectability,  that  I  was  no 
fit  companion  for  such  a  young  and  innocent  person, 
and  to  warn  me  that  you  were  prepared  to  act  as  her 
protector." 

Brant  slightly  inclined  his  head. 

"  I  may  have  had  something  of  that  nature  in  my 
mind." 

"  Well,  Lieutenant  Brant,"  and  the  older  man 
rose  to  his  feet,  his  eyes  still  smiling,  c<  some  might  be 

[212] 


THE     VERGE     OF     A     QUARREL 

impolite  enough  to  say  that  it  was  the  conception  of  a 
cad,  but  whatever  it  was,  the  tables  have  unexpectedly 
turned.  Without  further  reference  to  my  own  personal 
interests  in  the  young  lady,  which  are,  however,  con 
siderable,  there  remain  other  weighty  reasons,  that  I 
am  not  at  liberty  to  discuss,  which  make  it  simply  im 
possible  for  you  to  sustain  any  relationship  to  Miss 
Gillis  other  than  that  of  ordinary  social  friendship." 

"You  —  you  claim  the  right  — 

"  I  distinctly  claim  the  right,  for  the  reason  that  I 
possess  the  right,  and  no  one  has  ever  yet  known  me 
to  relinquish  a  hold  once  fairly  gained.  Lieutenant 
Brant,  if  I  am  any  judge  of  faces  you  are  a  fighting 
man  by  nature  as  well  as  profession,  but  there  is  no 
opportunity  for  your  doing  any  fighting  here.  This 
matter  is  irrevocably  settled  —  Naida  Gillis  is  not  for 
you." 

Brant  was  breathing  hard.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
insinuate  that  there  is  an  understanding,  an  engage 
ment  between  you?"  he  faltered,  scarcely  knowing 
how  best  to  resent  such  utterance. 

"  You  may  place  your  own  construction  upon 
what  I  have  said,"  was  the  quiet  answer.  "The 
special  relations  existing  between  Miss  Gillis  and  my 
self  chance  to  be  no  business  of  yours.  However,  I 
will  consent  to  say  this  —  I  do  enjoy  a  relationship  to 
her  that  gives  me  complete  authority  to  say  what  I  have 
said  to  you.  I  regret  having  been  obliged  by  your 
persistency  to  speak  with  such  plainness,  but  this 
knowledge  should  prove  sufficient  to  control  the  actions 
of  a  gentleman." 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

For  a  moment  the  soldier  did  not  answer,  his  emo 
tions  far  too  strong  to  permit  of  calm  utterance,  his 
lips  tightly  shut.  He  felt  utterly  defeated.  "Your 
language  is  sufficiently  explicit,"  he  acknowledged,  at 
last.  "  I  ask  pardon  for  my  unwarranted  intrusion." 

At  the  door  he  paused  and  glanced  back  toward 
that  motionless  figure  yet  standing  with  one  hand 
grasping  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"  Before  I  go,  permit  me  to  ask  a  single  question," 
he  said,  frankly.  "  I  was  a  friend  of  old  Ben  Gillis, 
and  he  was  a  friend  to  my  father  before  me.  Have 
you  any  reason  to  suspect  that  he  was  not  Naida  Gil- 
lis's  father  ? " 

Hampton  took  one  hasty  step  forward.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ? "  he  exclaimed,  fiercely,  his  eyes  two 
coals  of  fire. 

Brant  felt  that  the  other's  display  of  irritation  gave 
him  an  unexpected  advantage. 

"  Nothing  that  need  awaken  anger,  I  am  sure. 
Something  caused  me  to  harbor  the  suspicion,  and  I 
naturally  supposed  you  would  know  about  it.  In 
deed,  I  wondered  if  some  such  knowledge  might  not 
account  for  your  very  deep  interest  in  keeping  her  so 
entirely  to  yourself." 

Hampton's  fingers  twitched  in  a  nervousness 
altogether  unusual  to  the  man,  yet  when  he  spoke 
his  voice  was  like  steel.  "Your  suspicions  are  highly 
interesting,  and  your  cowardly  insinuations  base. 
However,  if,  as  I  suppose,  your  purpose  is  to  provoke 
a  quarrel,  you  will  find  me  quite  ready  to  accommodate 
you." 


THE     VERGE     OF     A     QUARREL 

An  instant  they  stood  thus,  eye  to  eye.  Suddenly 
Brant's  memory  veered  to  the  girl  whose  name  would 
be  smirched  by  any  blow  struck  between  them, 
and  he  forced  back  the  hasty  retort  burning  upon 
his  lips. 

"You  may  be,  Mr.  Hampton,"  he  said,  standing 
like  a  statue,  his  back  to  the  door,  "  but  I  am  not. 
As  you  say,  fighting  is  my  trade,  yet  I  have  never 
sought  a  personal  quarrel.  Nor  is  there  any  cause 
here,  as  my  only  purpose  in  asking  the  question  was 
to  forewarn  you,  and  her  through  you,  that  such  a 
suggestion  had  been  openly  made  in  my  hearing.  I 
presume  it  was  a  lie,  and  wished  to  be  able  to  brand 
it  so." 

"  By  whom?" 

"  A  fellow  known  as  Silent  Murphy,  a  govern 
ment  scout." 

"  I  have  heard  of  him.     Where  is  he  ?" 

"  He  claimed  to  be  here  waiting  orders  from 
Custer.  He  had  camp  up  the  Creek  two  days  ago, 
but  is  keeping  well  out  of  sight  for  some  reason. 
Telegrams  have  been  received  for  him  at  the  office 
but  another  man  has  called  for  them." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  Red  Slavin." 

"  The  cur!  "  said  Hampton.  "  I  reckon  there  is 
a  bad  half-hour  waiting  for  those  two  fellows.  What 
was  it  that  Murphy  said?" 

"That  he  knew  the  girl's  real  name." 

"  Was  that  all  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  tried   to  discover  his  meaning,  but  the 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

fellow  became  suspicious  and  shut  up  like  a  clam.  Is 
there  anything  in  it  ? " 

Hampton  ignored  the  question.  "  Lieutenant 
Brant/*  he  said,  "  I  am  glad  we  have  had  this  talk 
together,  and  exceedingly  sorry  that  my  duty  has 
compelled  me  to  say  what  I  have  said.  Some  time, 
however,  you  will  sincerely  thank  me  for  it,  and  re 
joice  that  you  escaped  so  easily.  I  knew  your  father 
once,  and  I  should  like  now  to  part  on  friendly  re 
lations  with  his  son." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and,  scarcely  knowing  why 
he  did  so,  Brant  placed  his  own  within  its  grasp,  and  as 
the  eyes  of  the  two  men  met,  there  was  a  conscious 
ness  of  sympathy  between  them. 


CHAPTER  X 
A  SLIGHT  INTERRUPTION 

THE  young  officer  passed  slowly  down  the  dark 
staircase,  his  mind  still  bewildered  by  the  result 
of  the  interview.  His  feelings  toward  Hampton 
had  been  materially  changed.  He  found  it  impossible 
to  nurse  a  dislike  which  seemingly  had  no  real  cause 
for  existence.  He  began  besides  to  comprehend  some 
thing  of  the  secret  of  his  influence  over  Naida ;  even  to 
experience  himself  the  power  of  that  dominating  spirit. 
Out  of  controversy  a  feeling  of  respect  had  been  born. 
Yet  Brant  was  far  from  being  satisfied.  Little  by 
little  he  realized  that  he  had  gained  nothing,  learned 
nothing.  Hampton  had  not  even  advanced  a  direct 
claim  ;  he  had  dodged  the  real  issue,  leaving  the  soldier 
in  the  dark  regarding  his  relationship  to  Naida,  and 
erecting  a  barrier  between  the  other  two.  It  was  a 
masterpiece  of  defence,  puzzling,  irritating,  seemingly 
impassable.  From  the  consideration  of  it  all,  Brant 
emerged  with  but  one  thought  clearly  defined  —  who 
ever  she  might  prove  to  be,  whatever  was  her  present 
connection  with  Hampton,  he  loved  this  dark-eyed, 
auburn-haired  waif.  He  knew  it  now,  and  never  again 
could  he  doubt  it.  The  very  coming  of  this  man  into 
the  field  of  contest,  and  his  calm  assumption  of  pro 
prietorship  and  authority,  had  combined  to  awaken  the 
slumbering  heart  of  the  young  officer.  From  that 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

instant  Naida  Gillis  became  to  him  the  one  and  only 
woman  in  all  this  world.  Ay,  and  he  would  fight  to 
win  her;  never  confessing  defeat  until  final  decision 
came  from  her  own  lips.  He  paused,  half  inclined  to 
retrace  his  steps  and  have  the  matter  out.  He  turned 
just  in  time  to  face  a  dazzling  vision  of  fluffy  lace  and 
flossy  hair  beside  him  in  the  dimly  lighted  hall. 

"Oh,  Lieutenant  Brant !"  and  the  vision  clung  to 
his  arm  tenderly.  "It  is  such  a  relief  to  find  that  you 
are  unhurt.  Did —  did  you  kill  him  ?  " 

Brant  stared.  "I — I  fear  I  scarcely  comprehend, 
Miss  Spencer.  I  have  certainly  taken  no  one's  life. 
What  can  you  mean?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad;  and  Naida  will  be,  too.  I  must 
go  right  back  and  tell  the  poor  girl,  for  she  is  nearly 
distracted.  Oh,  Lieutenant,  is  n't  it  the  most  roman 
tic  situation  that  ever  was  ?  And  he  is  such  a  myste 
rious  character!" 

"  To  whom  do  you  refer  ?  Really,  I  am  quite  in 
the  dark." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Hampton,  of  course.  Oh,  I  know 
all  about  it.  Naida  felt  so  badly  over  your  meeting 
this  morning  that  I  just  compelled  her  to  confide  her 
whole  story  to  me.  And  didn't  you  fight  at  all  ?" 

"  Most  assuredly  not,"  and  Brant's  eyes  began  to 
exhibit  amusement ; "  indeed,  we  parted  quite  friendly." 

"  I  told  Naida  I  thought  you  would.  People 
don't  take  such  things  so  seriously  nowadays,  do  they  ? 
But  Naida  is  such  a  child  and  so  full  of  romantic 
notions,  that  she  worried  terribly  about  it.  Is  n't  it 
perfectly  delightful  what  he  is  going  to  do  for  her  ? " 

[a  1 8] 


A       SLIGHT       INTERRUPTION 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know." 

"  Why,  had  n't  you  heard  ?  He  wants  to  send  her 
East  to  a  boarding-school  and  give  her  a  fine  educa 
tion.  Do  you  know,  Lieutenant,  I  am  simply  dying  to 
see  him ;  he  is  such  a  perfectly  splendid  Western 
character." 

"It  would  afford  me  pleasure  to  present  you," 
and  the  soldier's  downcast  face  brightened  with  antici 
pation. 

"Do  —  do  you  really  think  it  would  be  proper  ? 
But  they  do  things  so  differently  out  here,  don't  they  ? 
Oh,  I  wish  you  would." 

Feeling  somewhat  doubtful  as  to  what  might  be 
the  result,  Brant  knocked  upon  the  door  he  had  just 
closed,  and,  in  response  to  the  voice  within,  opened  it. 
Hampton  sat  upon  the  chair  by  the  window,  but  as 
his  eyes  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  returned  soldier  with 
a  woman  standing  beside  him,  he  instantly  rose  to  his 
feet. 

"  Mr.  Hampton,"  said  Brant,  "  I  trust  I  may  be 
pardoned  for  again  troubling  you,  but  this  is  Miss 
Spencer,  a  great  admirer  of  Western  life,  who  is  desir 
ous  of  making  your  acquaintance." 

Miss  Spencer  swept  gracefully  forward,  her  cheeks 
flushed,  her  hand  extended.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Hampton,  I 
have  so  wished  to  meet  with  you  ever  since  I  first  read 
your  name  in  Aunt  Lydia's  letters  —  Mrs.  Herndon  is 
my  aunt,  you  know,  —  and  all  about  that  awful  time 
you  had  with  those  Indians.  You  see,  I  am  Naida 
Gillis's  most  particular  friend,  and  she  tells  me  so  much 
about  you.  She  is  such  a  dear,  sweet  girl  !  She  felt 

[219] 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

so  badly  this  morning  over  your  meeting  with  Lieu 
tenant  Brant,  fearing  you  might  quarrel !  It  was  such 
a  relief  to  find  him  unhurt,  but  I  felt  that  I  must  see 
you  also,  so  as  to  relieve  Naida's  mind  entirely.  I 
have  two  special  friends,  Mr.  Moffat  and  Mr.  McNeil, 
—  perhaps  you  know  them  ? —  who  have  told  me  so 
much  about  these  things.  But  I  do  think  the  story 
of  your  acquaintance  with  Naida  is  the  most  romantic 
I  ever  heard  of, —  exactly  like  a  play  on  the  stage,  and 
I  could  never  forgive  myself  if  I  failed  to  meet  the 
leading  actor.  I  do  not  wonder  Naida  fairly  worships 
you." 

"  I  most  certainly  appreciate  your  frankly  expressed 
interest,  Miss  Spencer,"  he  said,  standing  with  her  hand 
still  retained  in  his,  "  and  am  exceedingly  glad  there  is 
one  residing  in  this  community  to  whom  my  peculiar 
merits  are  apparent.  So  many  are  misjudged  in  this 
world,  that  it  is  quite  a  relief  to  realize  that  even  one 
is  appreciative,  and  the  blessing  becomes  doubled  when 
that  one  chances  to  be  so  very  charming  a  young 
woman." 

Miss  Spencer  sparkled  instantly,  her  cheeks  rosy. 
"  Oh,  how  very  gracefully  you  said  that !  I  do  wish 
you  would  some  time  tell  me  about  your  exploits. 
Why,  Mr.  Hampton,  perhaps  if  you  were  to  call  upon 
me,  you  might  see  Naida,  too.  I  wish  you  knew  Mr. 
Moffat,  but  as  you  don't,  perhaps  you  might  come 
with  Lieutenant  Brant." 

Hampton  bowed.  "  I  would  hardly  venture  thus 
to  place  myself  under  the  protection  of  Lieutenant 
Brant,  although  I  must  confess  the  former  attractions 

[220] 


A      SLIGHT       INTERRUPTION 

of  the  Hcrndon  home  are  now  greatly  increased. 
From  my  slight  knowledge  of  Mr.  Moffat's  capabili 
ties,  I  fear  I  should  be  found  a  rather  indifferent  enter 
tainer;  yet  I  sincerely  hope  we  shall  meet  again  at  a 
time  when  I  can  ca  tale  unfold/" 

"  How  nice  that  will  be,  and  I  am  so  grateful  to 
you  for  the  promise.  By-the-bye,  only  this  very 
morning  a  man  stopped  me  on  the  street,  actually  mis 
taking  me  for  Naida." 

"What  sort  of  a  looking  man,  Miss  Spencer?  " 

"  Large,  and  heavily  set,  with  a  red  beard.  He 
was  exceedingly  polite  when  informed  of  his  mistake, 
and  said  he  merely  had  a  message  to  deliver  to  Miss 
Gillis.  But  he  refused  to  tell  it  to  me." 

The  glances  of  the  two  men  met,  but  Brant  was 
unable  to  decipher  the  meaning  hidden  within  the  gray 
eyes.  Neither  spoke,  and  Miss  Spencer,  never  real 
izing  what  her  chatter  meant,  rattled  merrily  on. 

"  You  see  there  are  so  many  who  speak  to  me  now, 
because  of  my  public  position  here.  So  I  thought 
nothing  strange  at  first,  until  I  discovered  his  mistake, 
and  then  it  seemed  so  absurd  that  I  nearly  laughed 
outright.  Isn't  it  odd  what  such  a  man  could 
possibly  want  with  her?  But  really,  gentlemen,  I 
must  return  with  my  news ;  Naida  will  be  so  anxious. 
I  am  so  glad  to  have  met  you  both." 

Hampton  bowed  politely,  and  Brant  conducted 
her  silently  down  the  stairway.  "  I  greatly  regret  not 
being  able  to  accompany  you  home,"  he  explained, 
"  but  I  came  down  on  horseback,  and  my  duty  re 
quires  that  I  return  at  once  to  the  camp." 

[221] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

cc  Oh,  indeed !  how  very  unfortunate  for  me ! " 
Even  as  she  said  so,  some  unexpected  vision  beyond 
flushed  her  cheeks  prettily.  ;c  Why,  Mr.  Wynkoop," 
she  exclaimed,  "  I  am  so  glad  you  happened  along, 
and  going  my  way  too,  I  am  sure.  Good  morning, 
Lieutenant;  I  shall  feel  perfectly  safe  with  Mr. 
Wynkoop." 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  DOOR  OPENS,  AND  CLOSES  AGAIN 

IN  one  sense   Hampton  had  greatly  enjoyed  Miss 
Spencer's  call.     Her  bright,  fresh  face,  her  impul 
sive   speech,    her  unquestioned   beauty,   had    had 
their  effect  upon  him,  changing  for  the  time  being  the 
gloomy  trend  of  his  thoughts.     She  was  like  a  draught 
of  pure  Spring  air,  and  he  had  gratefully  breathed  it  in, 
and  even  longed  for  more. 

But  gradually  the  slight  smile  of  amusement  faded 
from  his  eyes.  Something,  which  he  had  supposed  lay 
securely  hidden  behind  years  and  distance,  had  all  at 
once  come  back  to  haunt  him,  —  the  unhappy  ghost 
of  an  expiated  crime,  to  do  evil  to  this  girl  Naida. 
Two  men,  at  least,  knew  sufficient  of  the  past  to  cause 
serious  trouble.  This  effort  by  Slavin  to  hold  personal 
communication  with  the  girl  was  evidently  made  for 
some  definite  purpose.  Hampton  was  unable  to  de 
cide  what  that  purpose  could  be.  He  entertained  no 
doubt  regarding  the  enmity  of  the  big  gambler,  or  his 
desire  to  "get  even"  for  all  past  injuries;  but  how 
much  did  he  know?  What  special  benefit  did  he 
hope  to  gain  from  conferring  with  Naida  Gillis  ? 
Hampton  decided  to  have  a  face-to-face  interview  with 
the  man  himself;  he  was  accustomed  to  fight  his  bat 
tles  in  the  open,  and  to  a  finish.  A  faint  hope,  which 
had  been  growing  dimmer  and  dimmer  with  every 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

passing  year,  began  to  flicker  once  again  within  his 
heart.  He  desired  to  see  this  man  Murphy,  and  to 
learn  exactly  what  he  knew. 

He  had  planned  his  work,  and  was  perfectly  pre 
pared  to  meet  its  dangers.  He  entered  the  almost 
deserted  saloon  opposite  the  hotel,  across  the  thres 
hold  of  which  he  had  not  stepped  for  two  years,  and 
the  man  behind  the  bar  glanced  up  apprehensively. 

ft  Red  Slavin  ?  "  he  said.  "  Well,  now  see  here, 
Hampton,  we  don't  want  no  trouble  in  this  shebang." 

"  I  'm  not  here  seeking  a  fight,  Jim,"  returned  the 
inquirer,  genially.  "  I  merely  wish  to  ask  c  Red '  an 
unimportant  question  or  two." 

"He's  there  in  the  back  room,  I  reckon,  but  he's 
damn  liable  to  take  a  pot  shot  at  you  when  you  go  in." 

Hampton's  genial  smile  only  broadened,  as  he 
carelessly  rolled  an  unlighted  cigar  between  his  lips. 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  becoming  rather  nervous 
for  this  line  of  business,  Jim.  You  should  take  a 
good  walk  in  the  fresh  air  every  morning,  and  let  up 
on  the  liquor.  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Slavin  is  one  of  my 
most  devoted  friends,  and  is  of  that  tender  disposition 
he  would  not  willingly  injure  a  fly." 

He  walked  to  the  door,  flung  it  swiftly  and  silently 
open,  and  stepping  within,  closed  it  behind  him  with 
his  left  hand.  In  the  other  glittered  the  steel-blue 
barrel  of  a  drawn  revolver. 

"  Slavin,  sit  down  !  " 

The  terse,  imperative  words  seemed  fairly  to  cut 
the  air,  and  the  red-bearded  gambler,  who  had  half 

[224] 


DOOR      OPENS      AND       CLOSES 

risen  to  his  feet,  an  oath  upon  his  lips,  sank  back  into 
his  seat,  staring  at  the  apparition  confronting  him  as 
if  fascinated.  Hampton  jerked  a  chair  up  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  small  table,  and  planted  himself 
on  it,  his  eyes  never  once  deserting  the  big  gambler's 
face. 

"Put  your  hands  on  the  table,  and  keep  them 
there  !  "  he  said.  "  Now,  my  dear  friend,  I  have  come 
here  in  peace,  not  war,  and  take  these  slight  precau 
tions  merely  because  I  have  heard  a  rumor  that  you 
have  indulged  in  a  threat  or  two  since  we  last  parted, 
and  I  know  something  of  your  impetuous  disposition. 
No  doubt  this  was  exaggerated,  but  I  am  a  careful 
man,  and  prefer  to  have  the  c  drop/  and  so  I  sincerely 
hope  you  will  pardon  my  keeping  you  covered 
during  what  is  really  intended  as  a  friendly  call.  I 
regret  the  necessity,  but  trust  you  are  resting  com 
fortably." 

"  Oh,  go  to  hell !  " 

"We  will  consider  that  proposition  somewhat 
later."  Hampton  laid  his  hat  with  calm  deliberation 
on  the  table.  "No  doubt,  Mr.  Slavin,  — if  you 
move  that  hand  again  I  '11  fill  your  system  with  lead, — 
you  experience  some  very  natural  curiosity  regarding 
the  object  of  my  unanticipated,  yet  I  hope  no  less 
welcome,  visit." 

Slavin's  only  reply  was  a  curse,  his  bloodshot  eyes 
roaming  the  room  furtively. 

"  I  suspected  as  much,"  Hampton  went  on,  coolly. 
"  Indeed,  I  should  have  felt  hurt  had  you  been 
indifferent  upon  such  an  occasion.  It  does  credit  to 

[225] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

your  heart,  Slavin.  Come  now,  keep  your  eyes  on 
me !  I  was  about  to  gratify  your  curiosity,  and,  in  the 
first  place,  I  came  to  inquire  solicitously  regarding  the 
state  of  your  health  during  my  absence,  and  incident 
ally  to  ask  why  you  are  exhibiting  so  great  an  interest 
in  Miss  Naida  Gillis." 

Slavin  straightened  up,  his  great  hands  clinching 
nervously,  drops  of  perspiration  appearing  on  his  red 
forehead.  "  I  don't  understand  your  damned  fun." 

Hampton's  lips  smiled  unpleasantly,  <c  Slavin, 
you  greatly  discourage  me.  The  last  time  I  was  here 
you  exhibited  so  fine  a  sense  of  humor  that  I  was 
realJy  quite  proud  of  you.  Yet,  truly,  I  think  you  do 
understand  this  joke.  Your  memory  can  scarcely  be 
failing  at  your  age. — Make  another  motion  like  that 
and  you  die  right  there !  You  know  me. — However, 
as  you  seem  to  shy  over  my  first  question,  I  '11  honor 
you  with  a  second,  —  Where's  Silent  Murphy?  " 

Slavin's  great  square  jaws  set,  a  froth  oozing 
from  between  his  thick  lips,  and  for  an  instant  the 
other  man  believed  that  in  his  paroxysm  of  rage  he 
would  hurl  himself  across  the  table.  Then  suddenly 
the  ungainly  brute  went  limp,  his  face  grown  haggard. 

"You  devil!"  he  roared,  "what  do  you  mean?" 

Surprised  as  Hampton  was  by  this  complete  break 
ing  down,  he  knew  his  man  far  too  well  to  yield  him 
the  slightest  opportunity  for  treachery.  With  revolver 
hand  resting  on  the  table,  the  muzzle  pointing  at  the 
giant's  heart,  he  leaned  forward,  utterly  remorseless 
now,  and  keen  as  an  Indian  on  the  trail. 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  " 

[226] 


DOOR      OPENS      AND      CLOSES 

The  horror  in  Slavin's  eyes  had  changed  to  sullen- 
ness,  but  he  nodded  silently. 

"  How  do  you  know  ? " 

There  was  no  reply,  although  the  thick  lips 
appeared  to  move. 

"Answer  me,  you  red  sneak!  Do  you  think  I 
am  here  to  be  played  with  ?  Answer  !" 

Slavin  gulped  down  something  which  seemed 
threatening  to  choke  him,  but  he  durst  not  lift  a  hand 
to  wipe  the  sweat  from  his  face.  "If — if  I  did  n't 
have  this  beard  on  you  might  guess.  I  thought  you 
knew  me  all  the  time." 

Hampton  stared  at  him,  still  puzzled.  "  I  have 
certainly  seen  you  somewhere.  I  thought  that  from 
the  first.  Where  was  it?" 

"  I  was  in  D  Troop,  Seventh  Cavalry." 

"  D  Troop  ?     Brant's  troop  ?  " 

The  big  gambler  nodded.  "That's  how  I  knew 
you,  Captain,"  he  said,  speaking  with  greater  ease, 
"but  I  never  had  no  reason  to  say  anything  about  it 
round  here.  You  was  allers  decent  'nough  ter  me." 

"Possibly," — and  it  was  plainly  evident  from  his 
quiet  tone  Hampton  had  steadied  from  his  first  sur 
prise,— "the  boot  was  on  the  other  leg,  and  you 
had  some  good  reason  not  to  say  anything." 

Slavin  did  not  answer,  but  he  wet  his  lips  with  his 
tongue,  his  eyes  on  the  window. 

"Who  is  this  fellow  Murphy?" 
"  He  was  corporal  in  that  same  troop,  sir."   The 
ex-cavalryman  dropped  insensibly  into  his  old  form  of 
speech.     "He  knew  you  too,  and  we  talked  it  over, 

[227] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

and  decided  to  keep  still,  because  it  was  none  of  our 
affair  anyhow." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"He  left  last  night  with  army  despatches  for 
Cheyenne." 

Hampton's  eyes  hardened  perceptibly,  and  his 
fingers  closed  more  tightly  about  the  butt  of  his  re 
volver.  "  You  lie,  Slavin !  The  last  message  did  not 
reach  here  until  this  morning.  That  fellow  is  hiding 
somewhere  in  this  camp,  and  the  two  of  you  have  been 
trying  to  get  at  the  girl.  Now,  damn  you,  what  is 
your  little  game  ?  " 

The  big  gambler  was  thinking  harder  then,  per 
haps,  than  he  had  ever  thought  in  his  life  before.  He 
was  no  coward,  although  there  was  a  yellow,  wolfish 
streak  of  treachery  in  him,  and  he  read  clearly  enough 
in  the  watchful  eyes  glowing  behind  that  blue  steel 
barrel  a  merciless  determination  which  left  him  nerve 
less.  He  knew  Hampton  would  kill  him  if  he  needed 
to  do  so,  but  he  likewise  realized  that  he  was  not 
likely  to  fire  until  he  had  gained  the  information  he 
was  seeking.  Cunning  pointed  the  only  safe  way  out 
from  this  difficulty.  Lies  had  served  his  turn  well 
before,  and  he  hoped  much  from  them  now.  If  he 
only  knew  how  much  information  the  other  possessed, 
it  would  be  easy  enough.  As  he  did  not,  he  must 
wield  his  weapon  blindly. 

"  You  're  makin*  a  devil  of  a  fuss  over  little  or 
nuthin',"  he  growled,  simulating  a  tone  of  disgust. 
"I  never  ain't  hed  no  quarrel  with  ye,  exceptin'fer  the 
way  ye  managed  ter  skin  me  at  the  table  bout  two 

[228] 


DOOR      OPENS      AND      CLOSES 

years  ago.  I  don't  give  two  screeches  in  hell  for  who 
you  are ;  an*  besides,  I  reckon  you  ain't  the  only  ex- 
convict  a-ranging  Dakota  either  fer  the  matter  o'  that. 
No  more  does  Murphy.  We  ain't  no  bloomin' 
detectives,  an'  we  ain  't  buckin'  in  on  no  business  o' 
yourn;  ye  kin  just  bet  your  sweet  life  on  thet." 

"  Where  is  Murphy,  then  ?  I  wish  to  see  the 
fellow." 

"I  told  you  he'd  gone.  Maybe  he  didn't  git 
away  till  this  mornin',  but  he's  gone  now  all  right. 
What  in  thunder  do  ye  want  o'  him  ?  I  reckon  I  kin 
tell  ye  all  thet  Murphy  knows." 

For  a  breathless  moment  neither  spoke,  Hampton 
fingering  his  gun  nervously,  his  eyes  lingering  on  that 
brutal  face. 

"  Slavin,"  he  said  at  last,  his  voice  hard,  metallic. 
"  I  Ve  figured  it  out,  and  I  do  know  you  now,  you 
lying  brute.  You  are  the  fellow  who  swore  you  saw 
me  throw  away  the  gun  that  did  the  shooting,  and 
that  afterwards  you  picked  it  up." 

There  was  the  spirit  of  murder  in  his  eyes,  and 
the  gambler  cowered  back  before  them,  trembling  like 
a  child. 

"I— I  only  swore  to  the  last  part,  Captain,"  he 
muttered,  his  voice  scarcely  audible.  "I  —  I  never 
said  I  saw  you  throw  — 

"And  I  swore,"  went  on  Hampton,  "that  I 
would  kill  you  on  sight.  You  lying  whelp,  are  you 
ready  to  die  P  " 

Slavin's  face  was  drawn  and  gray,  the  perspiration 
standing  in  beads  upon  his  forehead,  but  he  could 

[229] 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

neither  speak  nor  think,  fascinated  by  those  remorse 
less  eyes,  which  seemed  to  burn  their  way  down  into 
his  very  soul. 

"  No  ?  Well,  then,  I  will  give  you,  to-day,  just 
one  chance  to  live  —  one,  you  dog — one.  Don't 
move  an  eyelash  !  Tell  me  honestly  why  you  have 
been  trying  to  get  word  with  the  girl,  and  you  shall 
go  out  from  here  living.  Lie  to  me  about  it,  and  I 
am  going  to  kill  you  where  you  sit,  as  I  would  a  mad 
dog.  You  know  me,  Slavin  —  now  speak  !  " 

So  intensely  still  was  it,  Hampton  could  distinguish 
the  faint  ticking  of  the  watch  in  his  pocket,  the  hiss 
of  the  breath  between  the  giant's  clinched  teeth.  Twice 
the  fellow  tried  to  utter  something,  his  lips  shaking  as 
with  the  palsy,  his  ashen  face  the  picture  of  terror.  No 
wretch  dragged  shrieking  to  the  scaffold  could  have 
formed  a  more  pitiful  sight,  but  there  was  no  mercy  in 
the  eyes  of  the  man  watching  him. 

"  Speak,  you  cringing  hound !  " 

Slavin  gripped  his  great  hands  together  convul 
sively,  his  throat  swelling  beneath  its  red  beard.  He 
knew  there  was  no  way  of  escape.  u  I  —  I  had  to  do 
it !  My  God,  Captain,  I  had  to  do  it !  " 

"Why?" 

"  I  had  to,  I  tell  you.  Oh,  you  devil,  you  fiend ! 
I'm  not  the  one  you're  after  —  it's  Murphy  !  " 

For  a  single  moment  Hampton  stared  at  the 
cringing  figure.  Then  suddenly  he  rose  to  his  feet  in 
decision.  "  Stand  up !  Lift  your  hands  first,  you 
fool.  Now  unbuckle  your  gun-belt  with  your  left 
hand  —  your  left,  I  said !  Drop  it  on  the  floor." 


DOOR      OPENS      AND      CLOSES 

There  was  an  unusual  sound  behind,  such  as  a  rat 
might  have  made,  and  Hampton  glanced  aside  appre 
hensively.     In   that  single  second   Slavin    was  upon 
him,  grasping  his  pistol-arm  at  the  wrist,  and  striving 
with  hairy  hand  to  get  a  death-grip  about  his  throat. 
Twice   Hampton's  left  drove  straight  out  into  that 
red,  gloating  face,  and  then  the  giant's  crushing  weight 
bore  him  backward.     He  fought  savagely,  silently,  his 
slender  figure  like  steel,  but  Slavin  got  his  grip  at  last, 
and  with  giant  strength  began  to  crunch  his  victim 
within  his  vise-like  arms.     There  was  a  moment  of 
superhuman  strain,  their  breathing  mere  sobs  of  ex 
haustion.     Then  Slavin  slipped,  and  Hampton  suc 
ceeded  in  wriggling  partially  free  from  his  death-grip. 
It  was  for  scarcely  an  instant,  yet  it  served ;  for  as  he 
bent  aside,  swinging  his  burly  opponent  with  him, 
some  one  struck  a  vicious  blow  at  his  back ;  but  the 
descending  knife,  missing  its  mark,  sunk  instead  deep 
into  Slavin's  breast. 

Hampton  saw  the  flash  of  a  blade,  a  hand,  a  por 
tion  of  an  arm,  and  then  the  clutching  fingers  of  Slavin 
swept  him  down.  He  reached  out  blindly  as  he  fell, 
his  hand  closing  about  the  deserted  knife-hilt.  The 
two  crashed  down  together  upon  the  floor,  the  force 
of  the  fall  driving  the  blade  home  to  the  gambler's 
heart. 


CHAPTER  XII 

>- 

THE  COHORTS  OF  JUDGE  LYNCH 

HAMPTON  staggered  blindly  to  his  feet,  look- 
ing  down  on  the  motionless  body.  He  was 
yet  dazed  from  the  sudden  cessation  of  struggle, 
dazed  still  more  by  something  he  had  seen  in  the 
instant  that  deadly  knife  flashed  past  him.  For  a 
moment  the  room  appeared  to  swim  before  his  eyes, 
and  he  clutched  at  the  overturned  table  for  support. 
Then,  as  his  senses  returned,  he  perceived  the  figures 
of  a  number  of  men  jamming  the  narrow  doorway,  and 
became  aware  of  their  loud,  excited  voices.  Back  to 
his  benumbed  brain  there  came  with  a  rush  the  whole 
scene,  the  desperation  of  his  present  situation.  He 
had  been  found  alone  with  the  dead  man.  Those 
men,  when  they  came  surging  in  attracted  by  the  noise 
of  strife,  had  found  him  lying  on  Slavin,  his  hand 
clutching  the  knife-hilt.  He  ran  his  eyes  over  their 
horrified  faces,  and  knew  instantly  they  held  him 
the  murderer. 

The  shock  of  this  discovery  steadied  him,  He 
realized  the  meaning,  the  dread,  terrible  meaning,  for  he 
knew  the  West,  its  fierce,  implacable  spirit  of  ven 
geance,  its  merciless  code  of  lynch-law.  The  vigilantes 
of  the  mining  camps  were  to  him  an  old  story;  more 
than  once  he  had  witnessed  their  work,  been  cognizant 
of  their  power.  This  was  no  time  to  parley  or  to 


COHORTS     OF     JUDGE     LYNCH 

hesitate.  He  had  seen  and  heard  in  that  room  that 
which  left  him  eager  to  live,  to  be  free,  to  open  a  long- 
closed  door  hiding  the  mystery  of  years.  The  key,  at 
last,  had  fallen  almost  within  reach  of  his  fingers,  and 
he  would  never  consent  to  be  robbed  of  it  by  the  wild 
rage  of  a  mob.  He  grabbed  the  loaded  revolver  lying 
upon  the  floor,  and  swung  Slavin's  discarded  belt 
across  his  shoulder.  If  it  was  to  be  a  fight,  he  would 
be  found  there  to  the  death,  and  God  have  mercy  on 
the  man  who  stopped  him  ! 

"  Stand  aside,  gentlemen,"  he  commanded.  "  Step 
back,  and  let  me  pass  !  " 

They  obeyed.  He  swept  them  with  watchful  eyes, 
stepped  past,  and  slammed  the  door  behind  him.  In 
his  heart  he  held  them  as  curs,  but  curs  could  snap, 
and  enough  of  them  might  dare  to  pull  him  down. 
Men  were  already  beginning  to  pour  into  the  saloon, 
uncertain  yet  of  the  facts,  and  shouting  questions  to 
each  other.  Totally  ignoring  these,  Hampton  thrust 
himself  recklessly  through  the  crowd.  Half-way 
down  the  broad  steps  Buck  Mason  faced  him,  in  shirt 
sleeves,  his  head  uncovered,  an  ugly  "45"  in  his  up 
lifted  hand.  Just  an  instant  the  eyes  of  the  two  men 
met,  and  neither  doubted  the  grim  purpose  of  the  other. 

"  You've  got  ter  do  it,  Bob,"  announced  the  mar 
shal,  shortly,  "  dead  er  alive." 

Hampton  never  hesitated.  "  I  'm  sorry  I  met 
you.  I  don't  want  to  get  anybody  else  mixed  up  in 
this  fuss.  If  you  '11  promise  me  a  chance  for  my  life, 
Buck,  I  '11  throw  up  my  hands.  But  I  prefer  a  bullet 
to  a  mob." 

[233] 


BOB     HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

The  little  marshal  was  sandy-haired,  freckle-faced, 
and  all  nerve.  He  cast  one  quick  glance  to  left  and 
right.  The  crowd  jammed  within  the  Occidental  had 
already  turned  and  were  surging  toward  the  door ;  the 
hotel  opposite  was  beginning  to  swarm;  down  the  street 
a  throng  of  men  was  pouring  forth  from  the  Miners' 
Retreat,  yelling  fiercely,  while  hurrying  figures  could 
be  distinguished  here  and  there  among  the  scattered 
buildings,  all  headed  in  their  direction.  Hampton 
knew  from  long  experience  what  this  meant;  these 
were  the  quickly  inflamed  cohorts  of  Judge  Lynch  — 
they  would  act  first,  and  reflect  later.  His  square 
jaws  set  like  a  trap. 

"All  right,  Bob,"  said  the  marshal.  "You're 
my  prisoner,  and  there  '11  be  one  hell  of  a  fight  afore 
them  lads  git  ye.  There's  a  chance  left  —  leg  it  after 


me." 


Just  as  the  mob  surged  out  of  the  Occidental, 
cursing  and  struggling,  the  two  sprang  forward  and 
dashed  into  the  narrow  space  between  the  livery-stable 
and  the  hotel.  Moffat  chanced  to  be  in  the  passage 
way,  and  pausing  to  ask  no  questions,  Mason  promptly 
landed  that  gentleman  on  the  back  of  his  head  in  a 
pile  of  discarded  tin  cans,  and  kicked  viciously  at  a 
yellow  dog  which  ventured  to  snap  at  them  as  they 
swept  past.  Behind  arose  a  volley  of  curses,  the  thud 
of  feet,  an  occasional  voice  roaring  out  orders,  and  a 
sharp  spat  of  revolver  shots.  One  ball  plugged  into 
the  siding  of  the  hotel,  and  a  second  threw  a  spit  of 
sand  into  their  lowered  faces,  but  neither  man  glanced 
back.  They  were  running  for  their  lives  now,  racing 


COHORTS     OF    JUDGE     LYNCH 

for  a  fair  chance  to  turn  at  bay  and  fight,  their  sole 
hope  the  steep,  rugged  hill  in  their  front.  Hampton 
began  to  understand  the  purpose  of  his  companion, 
the  quick,  unerring  instinct  which  had  led  him  to  se 
lect  the  one  suitable  spot  where  the  successful  waging 
of  battle  against  such  odds  was  possible  —  the  deserted 
dump  of  the  old  Shasta  mine. 

With  every  nerve  strained  to  the  uttermost,  the 
two  men  raced  side  by  side  down  the  steep  slope, 
ploughed  through  the  tangled  underbrush,  and  toiled 
up  the  sharp  ascent  beyond.  Already  their  pursuers 
were  crowding  the  more  open  spaces  below,  incited  by 
that  fierce  craze  for  swift  vengeance  which  at  times 
sweeps  even  the  law-abiding  off  their  feet.  Little  bet 
ter  than  brutes  they  came  howling  on,  caring  only  in 
this  moment  to  strike  and  slay.  The  whole  affair  had 
been  like  a  flash  of  fire,  neither  pursuers  nor  pursued 
realizing  the  half  of  the  story  in  those  first  rapid  sec 
onds  of  breathless  action.  But  back  yonder  lay  a 
dead  man,  and  every  instinct  of  the  border  demanded 
a  victim  in  return. 

At  the  summit  of  the  ore  dump  the  two  men 
flung  themselves  panting  down,  for  the  first  time  able 
now  to  realize  what  it  all  meant.  They  could  perceive 
the  figures  of  their  pursuers  among  the  shadows  of  the 
bushes  below,  but  these  were  not  venturing  out  into 
the  open  —  the  first  mad,  heedless  rush  had  evidently 
ended.  There  were  some  cool  heads  among  the  mob 
leaders,  and  it  was  highly  probable  that  negotiations 
would  be  tried  before  that  crowd  hurled  itself  against 
two  desperate  men,  armed  and  entrenched.  Both 

['35] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

fugitives  realized  this,  and  lay  there  coolly  watchful, 
their  breath  growing  more  regular,  their  eyes  softening. 

"  Whut  is  all  this  fuss  about,  anyhow  ? "  questioned 
the  marshal,  evidently  somewhat  aggrieved.  "  I  wus 
just  eatin'  dinner  when  a  feller  stuck  his  head  in  an* 
yelled  ye  'd  killed  somebody  over  at  the  Occidental." 

Hampton  turned  his  face  gravely  toward  him. 
cc  Buck,  I  don't  know  whether  you  '11  believe  me  or 
not,  but  I  guess  you  never  heard  me  tell  a  lie,  or 
knew  of  my  trying  to  dodge  out  of  a  bad  scrape.  Be 
sides,  I  have  n  't  anything  to  gain  now,  for  I  reckon 
you  're  planning  to  stay  with  me,  guilty  or  not  guilty, 
but  I  did  not  kill  that  fellow.  I  don't  exactly  see  how 
I  can  prove  it,  the  way  it  all  happened,  but  I  give 
you  my  word  as  a  man,  I  did  not  kill  him." 

Mason  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes,  his  teeth 
showing  behind  his  stiff,  closely  clipped  mustache. 
Then  he  deliberately  extended  his  hand,  and  gripped 
Hampton's.  <c  Of  course  I  believe  ye.  Not  that 
you  're  any  too  blame  good,  Bob,  but  you  ain't  the 
kind  what  pleads  the  baby  act.  Who  was  the  feller?  " 

«  Red  Slavin." 

"  No  !  "  and  the  hand  grip  perceptibly  tightened. 
"  Holy  Moses,  what  ingratitude!  Why,  the  camp 
ought  to  get  together  and  give  ye  a  vote  of  thanks, 
and  instead,  here  they  are  trying  their  level  best  to 
hang  you.  Cussedest  sorter  thing  a  mob  is,  anyhow ; 
goes  like  a  flock  o'  sheep  after  a  leader,  an'  I  bet  I 
could  name  the  fellers  who  are  a-runnin'  that  crowd. 
How  did  the  thing  happen?  " 

Both  men  were  intently  observing  the  ingathering 

[236] 


COHORTS     OF    JUDGE     LYNCH 

of  their  scattered  pursuers,  but  Hampton  answered 
gravely,  telling  his  brief  story  with  careful  detail,  ap 
preciating  the  importance  of  reposing  full  confidence 
in  this  quiet,  resourceful  companion.  The  little 
marshal  was  all  grit,  nerve,  faithfulness  to  duty,  from 
his  head  to  his  heels. 

"  All  I  really  saw  of  the  fellow,"  he  concluded, 
"was  a  hand  and  arm  as  they  drove  in  the  knife. 
You  can  see  there  where  it  ripped  me,  and  the  unex 
pected  blow  of  the  man's  body  knocked  me  forward, 
and  of  course  I  fell  on  Slavin.  It  may  be  I  drove 
the  point  farther  in  when  I  came  down,  but  that  was 
an  accident.  The  fact  is,  Buck,  I  had  every  reason  to 
wish  Slavin  to  live.  I  was  just  getting  out  of  him 
some  information  I  needed." 

Mason  nodded,  his  eyes  wandering  from  Hamp 
ton's  expressive  face  to  the  crowd  beginning  to  collect 
beneath  the  shade  of  a  huge  oak  a  hundred  yards 
below. 

"  Never  carry  a  knife,  do  ye  ?  " 

"  No." 

'Thought  not;  always  heard  you  fought  with  a 
gun.  Caught  no  sight  of  the  feller  after  ye  got  up  ?  " 

"All  I  saw  then  was  the  crowd  blocking  the  door 
way.  I  knew  they  had  caught  me  lying  on  Slavin, 
with  my  hand  grasping  the  knife-hilt,  and,  someway,  I 
could  n't  think  of  anything  just  then  but  how  to  get 
out  of  there  into  the  open.  I  Ve  seen  vigilantes 
turn  loose  before,  and  knew  what  was  likely  to 
happen ! " 

"  Sure.      Recognize  anybody  in  that  first  bunch?" 

[237] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"  Big  Jim,  the  bartender,  was  the  only  one  I  knew; 
he  had  a  bung-starter  in  his  hand." 

Mason  nodded  thoughtfully,  his  mouth  puckered. 
"It's  him,  and  half  a  dozen  other  fellers  of  the  same 
stripe,  who  are  kickin*  up  all  this  fracas.  The  most 
of  'em  are  yonder  now,  an*  if  it  wus  n't  fer  leavin' 
a  prisoner  unprotected,  darn  me  if  I  wud  n't  like  to 
mosey  right  down  thar  an'  pound  a  little  hoss  sense 
into  thet  bunch  o'  cattle.  Thet  's  'bout  the  only  thing 
ye  kin  do  fcr  a  plum  fool,  so  long  as  the  law  won't  let 
ye  kill  him." 

They  lapsed  into  contemplative  silence,  each  man 
busied  with  his  own  thought,  and  neither  perceiving 
clearly  any  probable  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  Hamr> 
ton  spoke  first. 

"  I  'm  really  sorry  that  you  got  mixed  up  in  this, 
Buck,  for  it  looks  to  me  about  nine  chances  out  of  ten 
against  either  of  us  getting  away  from  here  unhurt." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  It's  bin  my  experience  thet 
there 's  allers  chances  if  you  only  keep  yer  eyes  skinned. 
Of  course  them  fellers  has  got  the  bulge ;  they  kin 
starve  us  out,  maybe  they  kin  smoke  us  out,  and  they 
kin  sure  make  things  onpleasant  whenever  they  git 
their  long-range  guns  to  throwin'  lead  perniiscous. 
Thet 's  their  side  of  the  fun.  Then,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  we  kin  only  manage  to  hold  'em  back  till  after  dark 
we  maybe  might  creep  away  through  the  bush  to  take 
a  hand  in  this  little  game.  Anyhow,  it 's  up  to  us  to 
play  it  out  to  the  limit.  Bless  my  eyes,  if  those  lads 
ain't  a-comin'  up  right  now  !  " 

A  half-dozen  men  were  starting  to  climb  the  hillside, 

[238] 


COHORTS     OF    JUDGE     LYNCH 

following  a  dim  trail  through  the  tangled  under 
brush.  Looking  down  upon  them,  it  was  impossible 
to  distinguish  their  faces,  but  two  among  them,  at  least, 
carried  firearms.  Mason  stepped  up  on  to  the  ore- 
dump  where  he  could  see  better,  and  watched  their 
movements  closely. 

"  Hi,  there ! "  he  called,  his  voice  harsh  and  strident. 
"  You  fellers  are  not  invited  to  this  picnic,  an'  there'll 
besomethin'  doin'  if  you  push  along  any  higher." 

The  little  bunch  halted  instantly  just  without  the 
edge  of  the  heavy  timber,  turning  their  faces  up  toward 
the  speaker.  Evidently  they  expected  to  be  hailed, 
but  not  quite  so  soon. 

"  Now,  see  here,  Buck,"  answered  one,  taking  a 
single  step  ahead  of  the  others,  and  hollowing  his  hand 
as  a  trumpet  to  speak  through,  "  it  don't  look  to  us 
fellers  as  if  this  affair  was  any  of  your  funeral,  nohow, 
and  we  've  come  'long  ahead  of  the  others  just  on  pur 
pose  to  give  you  a  fair  show  to  pull  out  of  it  afore  the 
real  trouble  begins.  Sabe?" 

"  Is  thet  so  ?  " 

The  little  marshal  was  too  far  away  for  them  to 
perceive  how  his  teeth  set  beneath  the  bristly  mus 
tache. 

'You  bet!  The  boys  don't  consider  thet  it's 
hardly  the  square  deal  your  takin'  up  agin  'cm  in  this 
way.  They  'lected  you  marshal  of  this  yere  camp,  but 
it  war  n't  expected  you'd  ever  take  no  sides  'long  with 
murderers.  Thet's  too  stiff  fer  us  to  abide  by.  So 
come  on  down,  Buck,  an'  leave  us  to  attend  to  the 
cuss." 

[239] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"  If  you  mean  Hampton,  he's  my  prisoner.  Will 
you  promise  to  let  me  take  him  down  to  Cheyenne  fer 
trial  ?  " 

"  Wai,  I  reckon  not,  old  man.  We  kin  give  him 
a  trial  well  'nough  right  here  in  Glencaid,"  roared 
another  voice  from  out  the  group,  which  was  appar 
ently  growing  restless  over  the  delay.  "  But  we  ain't 
inclined  to  do  you  no  harm  onless  ye  ram  in  too  far. 
So  come  on  down,  Buck,  throw  up  yer  cards ;  we  Ve 
got  all  the  aces,  an'  ye  can't  bluff  this  whole  darn 
camp. " 

Mason  spat  into  the  dump  contemptuously,  his 
hands  thrust  into  his  pockets.  "You  're  a  fine-lookin' 
lot  o'  law-abidin'  citizens,  you  are !  Blamed  if  you 
ain't.  Why,  I  would  n't  give  a  snap  of  my  fingers  fer 
the  whole  kit  and  caboodle  of  ye,  you  low-down, 
sneakin'  parcel  o'  thieves.  Ye  say  it  wus  yer  votes 
whut  made  me  marshal  o'  this  camp.  Well,  I  reckon 
they  did,  an'  I  reckon  likewise  I  know  'bout  whut  my 
duty  under  the  law  is,  an'  I'm  a-goin'  to  do  it.  If  you 
fellers  thought  ye  'lected  a  chump,  this  is  the  time  you 
git  left.  This  yere  man,  Bob  Hampton,  is  my  prisoner, 
an'  I'll  take  him  to  Cheyenne,  if  I  have  ter  brain  every 
tough  in  Glencaid  to  do  it.  Thet's  me,  gents." 

"  Oh,  come  off;  you  can't  run  your  notions  agin 
the  whole  blame  moral  sentiment  of  this  camp." 

"  Moral  sentiment !  I  'm  backin*  up  the  law,  not 
moral  sentiment,  ye  cross-eyed  beer-slinger,  an'  if  ye 
try  edgin'  up  ther  another  step  I  '11  plug  you  with  this 

'45-'  " 

There  was  a  minute  of  hesitancy  while    the   men 

[240] 


COHORTS     OF     JUDGE     LYNCH 

below  conferred,  the  marshal  looking  contemptuously 
down  upon  them,  his  revolver  gleaming  ominously 
in  the  light.  Evidently  the  group  hated  to  go  back 
without  the  prisoner. 

"  Oh,  come  on,  Buck,  show  a  little  hoss  sense,"  the 
leader  sang  out.  "  We  Ve  got  every  feller  in  camp 
along  with  us,  an*  there  ain't  no  show  fer  the  two  o'  ye 
to  hold  out  against  that  sort  of  an  outfit." 

Mason  smiled  and  patted  the  barrel  of  his   Colt. 

"  Oh,  go  to  blazes  !  When  I  want  any  advice, 
Jimmie,  I  '11  send  fer  ye." 

Some  one  fired,  the  ball  digging  up  the  soft  earth  at 
the  marshal's  feet,  and  flinging  it  in  a  blinding  cloud 
into  Hampton's  eyes.  Mason's  answer  was  a  sudden 
fusilade,  which  sent  the  crowd  flying  helter-skelter  into 
the  underbrush.  One  among  them  staggered  and  half 
fell,  yet  succeeded  in  dragging  himself  out  of  sight. 

"  Great  Scott,  if  I  don't  believe  I  winged  James  !  " 
the  shooter  remarked  cheerfully,  reaching  back  into 
his  pocket  for  more  cartridges.  "  Maybe  them  boys 
will  be  a  bit  more  kcerful  if  they  once  onderstand 
they  're  up  agin  the  real  thing.  Weil,  perhaps  I 
better  skin  down,  fer  I  reckon  it 's  liable  ter  be  rifles 
next." 

It  was  rifles  next,  and  the" winging"  of  Big  Jim, 
however  it  may  have  inspired  caution,  also  developed 
fresh  animosity  in  the  hearts  of  his  followers,  and 
brought  forth  evidences  of  discipline  in  their  approach. 
Peering  across  the  sheltering  dump  pile,  the  besieged 
were  able  to  perceive  the  dark  figures  cautiously 
advancing  through  the  protecting  brush;  they  spread 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

out  widely  until  their  two  flanks  were  close  in  against 
the  wall  of  rock,  and  then  the  deadly  rifles  began  to 
spit  spitefully,  the  balls  casting  up  the  soft  dirt  in 
clouds  or  flattening  against  the  stones.  The  two  men 
crouched  lower,  hugging  their  pile  of  slag,  unable  to 
perceive  even  a  stray  assailant  within  range  of  their 
ready  revolvers.  Hampton  remained  cool,  alert,  and 
motionless,  striving  in  vain  to  discover  some  means  of 
escape,  but  the  little  marshal  kept  grimly  cheerful, 
creeping  constantly  from  point  to  point  in  the  endeavor 
to  get  a  return  shot  at  his  tormentors. 

"  This  whole  blame  country  is  full  of  discharged 
sojers,"  he  growled,  "  an'  they  know  their  biz  all  right. 
I  reckon  them  fellers  is  pretty  sure  to  git  one  of  us 
yit;  anyhow,  they've  got  us  cooped.  Say,  Bob,  thet 
lad  crawling  yonder  ought  to  be  in  reach,  an'  it's 
our  bounden  duty  not  to  let  the  boys  git  too  gay." 

Hampton  tried  the  shot  suggested,  elevating  con 
siderable  to  overcome  distance.  There  was  a  yell, 
and  a  swift  skurrying  backward  which  caused  Mason 
to  laugh,  although  neither  knew  whether  this  result 
arose  from  fright  or  wound. 

"  'Bliged  ter  teach  'em  manners  onct  in  a  while,  or 
they  '11  imbibe  a  fool  notion  they  kin  come  right 
'long  up  yere  without  no  invite.  'T  ain  't  fer  long, 
no  how,  'less  all  them  guys  are  ijuts." 

Hampton  turned  his  head  and  looked  soberly  into 
the  freckled  face,  impressed  by  the  speaker's  grave 
tone. 

"Why?" 

«c  Fire,  my  boy,  fire.  The  wind's  dead  right  fer  it ; 
[242] 


COHORTS    OF    JUDGE     LYNCH 

thet  brush  will  burn  like  so  much  tinder,  an*  with  this 
big  wall  o'  rock  back  of  us,  it  will  be  hell  here,  all 
right.  Some  of  'em  are  bound  to  think  of  it  pretty 
blame  soon,  an'  then,  Bob,  I  reckon  you  an*  I  will 
hev'  to  take  to  the  open  on  the  jump." 

Hampton's  eyes  hardened.  God,  how  he  desired 
to  live  just  then,  to  uncover  that  fleeing  Murphy  and 
wring  from  him  the  whole  truth  which  had  been 
eluding  him  all  these  years  !  Surely  it  was  not  justice 
that  all  should  be  lost  now.  The  smoke  puffs  rose 
from  the  encircling  rifles,  and  the  hunted  men 
cowered  still  lower,  the  whistling  of  the  bullets  in 
their  ears. 


[2431 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"SHE  LOVES  ME;  SHE  LOVES  ME  NOT" 

UNKIND  as  the  Fates  had  proved  to  Brant  earlier 
in  the  day,  they  relented  somewhat  as  the  sun 
rose  higher,  and  consented  to  lead  him  to  far 
happier  scenes.     There  is  a  rare  fortune  which  seems 
to  pilot  lovers  aright,  even  when  they  are  most  blind 
to    the  road,  and  the  young  soldier    was  now  most 
truly  a  lover   groping   through   the  mists    of  doubt 
and  despair. 

It  was  no  claim  of  military  duty  which  compelled 
him  to  relinquish  Miss  Spencer  so  promptly  at  the 
hotel  door,  but  rather  a  desire  to  escape  her  ceaseless 
chatter  and  gain  retirement  where  he  could  reflect  in 
quiet  over  the  revelations  of  Hampton.  In  this  quest 
he  rode  slowly  up  the  valley  of  the  Bear  Water, 
through  the  bright  sunshine,  the  rare  beauty  of  the 
scene  scarcely  leaving  the  slightest  impress  on  his 
mind,  so  busy  was  it,  and  so  preoccupied.  He  no 
longer  had  any  doubt  that  Hampton  had  utilized 
his  advantageous  position,  as  well  as  his  remarkable 
powers  of  pleasing,  to  ensnare  the  susceptible  heart  of 
this  young,  confiding  girl.  While  the  man  had  ad 
vanced  no  direct  claim,  he  had  said  enough  to  make 
perfectly  clear  the  close  intimacy  of  their  relation  and 
the  existence  of  a  definite  understanding  between 
them.  With  this  recognized  as  a  fact,  was  he  justified 


LOVES     ME;     LOVES     ME     NOT 

in  endeavoring  to  win  Naida  Gillis  for  himself  ?  That 
the  girl  would  find  continued  happiness  with  such  a 
man  as  Hampton  he  did  not  for  a  moment  believe 
possible ;  that  she  had  been  deliberately  deceived 
regarding  his  true  character  he  felt  no  doubt.  The 
fellow  had  impressed  her  by  means  of  his  picturesque 
personality,  his  cool,  dominating  manner,  his  veneer 
of  refinement ;  he  had  presumed  on  her  natural  grati 
tude,  her  girlish  susceptibility,  her  slight  knowledge 
of  the  world,  to  worm  his  way  into  her  confidence, 
perhaps  even  to  inspire  love.  These  probabilities,  as 
Brant  understood  them,  only  served  to  render  him 
more  ardent  in  his  quest,  more  eager  to  test  his 
strength  in  the  contest  for  a  prize  so  well  worth  the 
winning.  He  acknowledged  no  right  that  such  a  man 
as  Hampton  could  justly  hold  over  so  innocent  and 
trustful  a  heart.  The  girl  was  morally  so  far  above 
him  as  to  make  his  very  touch  a  profanation,  and 
at  the  unbidden  thought  of  it,  the  soldier  vowed  to 
oppose  such  an  unholy  consummation.  Nor  did  he, 
even  then,  utterly  despair  of  winning,  for  he  recalled 
afresh  the  intimacy  of  their  few  past  meetings,  his  face 
brightening  in  memory  of  this  and  that  brief  word  or 
shy  glance.  There  is  a  voiceless  language  of  love 
which  a  lover  alone  can  interpret,  and  Brant  rode  on 
slowly,  deciphering  its  messages,  and  attaining  new 
courage  with  every  step  of  his  horse. 

All  the  world  loves  a  lover,  and  all  the  fairies  guide 
him.  As  the  officer's  eyes,  already  smiling  in  antici 
pated  victory,  glanced  up  from  the  dusty  road,  he  per 
ceived  just  ahead  the  same  steep  bank  down  which  he  had 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

plunged  in  his  effort  at  capturing  his  fleeing  tormentor. 
With  the  sight  there  came  upon  him  a  desire  to  loiter 
again  in  the  little  glen  where  they  had  first  met,  and 
dream  once  more  of  her  who  had  given  to  the  shaded 
nook  both  life  and  beauty.  Amid  the  sunshine  and 
the  shadow  he  could  picture  afresh  that  happy,  piquant 
face,  the  dark  coils  of  hair,  those  tantalizing  eyes. 
He  swung  himself  from  the  saddle,  tied  a  loose  rein, 
to  a  scrub  oak,  and  clambered  up  the  bank. 

With  the  noiseless  step  of  a  plainsman  he  pushed 
in  through  the  labyrinths  of  bush,  only  to  halt  petri 
fied  upon  the  very  edge  of  that  inner  barrier.  No 
figment  of  imagination,  but  the  glowing  reality  of  flesh 
and  blood,  awaited  him.  She  had  neither  seen  nor 
heard  his  approach,  and  he  stopped  in  perplexity. 
He  had  framed  a  dozen  speeches  for  her  ears,  yet  now 
he  could  do  no  more  than  stand  and  gaze,  his  heart  in 
his  eyes.  And  it  was  a  vision  to  enchain,  to  hold  lips 
speechless.  She  was  seated  with  unstudied  grace  on 
the  edge  of  the  bank,  her  hands  clasped  about  one 
knee,  her  sweet  face  sobered  by  thought,  her  eyes 
downcast,  the  long  lashes  plainly  outlined  against  the 
clear  cheeks.  He  marked  the  graceful  sweep  of  her 
dark,  close-fitting  dress,  the  white  fringe  of  dainty 
underskirt,  the  small  foot,  neatly  booted,  peeping  from 
beneath,  and  the  glimpse  of  round,  white  throat,  ren 
dered  even  fairer  by  the  creamy  lace  encircling  it. 
Against  the  darker  background  of  green  shrubs  she 
resembled  a  picture  entitled  "  Dreaming,"  which  he 
dimly  recalled  lingering  before  in  some  famous  Eastern 
gallery,  and  his  heart  beat  faster  in  wonderment  at 

[246] 


LOVES      ME;     LOVES     ME     NOT 

what  the  mystic  dream  might  be.  To  draw  back 
unobserved  was  impossible,  even  had  he  possessed 
strength  of  will  sufficient  to  make  the  attempt,  nor 
would  words  of  easy  greeting  come  to  his  relief.  He 
could  merely  worship  silently  as  before  a  sacred  shrine. 
It  was  thus  she  glanced  up  and  saw  him  with  startled 
eyes,  her  hands  unclasping,  her  cheeks  rose-colored. 

"  Lieutenant  Brant,  you  here  ? "  she  exclaimed, 
speaking  as  if  his  presence  seemed  unreal.  "  What 
strange  miracles  an  idle  thought  can  work  !  " 

"Thoughts,  I  have  heard,"  he  replied,  coming 
toward  her  with  head  uncovered,  "will  sometimes 
awaken  answers  through  vast  distances  of  time  and 
space.  As  my  thought  was  with  you  I  may  be 
altogether  to  blame  for  thus  arousing  your  own.  From 
the  expression  of  your  face  I  supposed  you  dreaming." 

She  smiled,  her  eyes  uplifted  for  a  single  instant  to 
his  own.  "  It  was  rather  thought  just  merging  into 
dream,  and  there  are  few  things  in  life  more  sweet.  I 
know  not  whether  it  is  the  common  gift  of  all  minds, 
but  my  day-dreams  are  almost  more  to  me  than  my 

realities." 

"  First   it    was    moods,    and    now    dreams."     He 

seated  himself  comfortably  at  her  feet.  "  You  would 
cause  me  to  believe  you  a  most  impractical  person, 
Miss  Naida." 

She  laughed  frankly,  that  rippling  peal  of  unaffected 
merriment  which  sounded  so  like  music  to  his  ears. 
"  If  that  were  only  true,  I  am  sure  I  should  be  most 
happy,  for  it  has  been  my  fortune  so  far  to  conjure  up 
only  pleasure  through  day-dreaming  —  the  things  I 

l>47] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

like  and  long  for  become  my  very  own  then.  But  if 
you  mean,  as  I  suspect,  that  I  do  not  enjoy  the  dirt 
and  drudgery  of  life,  then  my  plea  will  have  to  be 
guilty.  I,  of  course,  grant  their  necessity,  yet  appar 
ently  there  are  plenty  who  find  them  well  worth  while, 
and  there  should  be  other  work  for  those  who  aspire. 
Back  of  what  you  term  practical  some  one  has  said  there 
is  always  a  dream,  a  first  conception.  In  that  sense  I 
choose  to  be  a  dreamer." 

"  And  not  so  unwise  a  choice,  if  your  dreams  only 
tend  toward  results/'  He  sat  looking  into  her  ani 
mated  face,  deeply  puzzled  by  both  words  and  actions. 
"I  cannot  help  noticing  that  you  avoid  all  reference  to 
my  meeting  with  Mr.  Hampton.  Is  this  another  sign 
of  your  impractical  mind  ?  " 

*  "  I  should  say  rather  the  opposite,  for  I  had  not 
even  supposed  it  concerned  me." 

"  Indeed !  That  presents  a  vastly  different  view 
from  the  one  given  us  an  hour  since.  The  distinct 
impression  was  then  conveyed  to  both  our  minds  that 
you  were  greatly  distressed  regarding  the  matter.  Is 
it  possible  you  can  have  been  acting  again  ?  " 

"  I  ?  Certainly  not !  "  and  she  made  no  attempt 
to  hide  her  indignation.  "  What  can  you  mean  ?  " 

He  hesitated  an  instant  in  his  reply,  feeling  that 
possibly  he  was  treading  upon  thin  ice.  But  her  eyes 
commanded  a  direct  answer,  and  he  yielded  to  them. 

"  We  were  informed  that  you  experienced  great 
anxiety  for  fear  we  might  quarrel,  —  so  great,  indeed, 
that  you  had  confided  your  troubles  to  another." 

"  To  whom  ?  " 

[248] 


LOVES      ME;     LOVES     ME      NOT 

"  Miss  Spencer.  She  came  to  us  ostensibly  in 
your  name,  and  as  a  peacemaker." 

A  moment  she  sat  gazing  directly  at  him,  then  she 
laughed  softly. 

"  Why,  how  supremely  ridiculous ;  I  can  hardly 
believe  it  true,  only  your  face  tells  me  you  certainly 
are  not  in  play.  Lieutenant  Brant,  I  have  never  even 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing.  You  had  informed  me 
that  your  mission  was  one  of  peace,  and  he  pledged 
me  his  word  not  to  permit  any  quarrel.  I  had  the 
utmost  confidence  in  you  both.'* 

"  How,  then,  did  she  even  know  of  our  meeting?  " 

"  I  am  entirely  in  the  dark,  as  mystified  as  you," 
she  acknowledged,  frankly,  "  for  it  has  certainly 
never  been  a  habit  with  me  to  betray  the  confidence 
of  my  friends,  and  I  learned  long  since  not  to  confide 
secrets  to  Miss  Spencer." 

Apparently  neither  cared  to  discuss  the  problem 
longer,  yet  he  remained  silent  considering  whether  to 
venture  the  asking  of  those  questions  which  might 
decide  his  fate.  He  was  uncertain  of  the  ground  he 
occupied,  while  Miss  Naida,  with  all  her  frankness, 
was  not  one  to  approach  thoughtlessly,  nor  was  the 
sword  of  her  tongue  without  sharp  point. 

"You  speak  of  your  confidence  in  us  both,"  he 
said,  slowly.  cc  To  me  the  complete  trust  you  repose 
in  Mr.  Hampton  is  scarcely  comprehensible.  Do 
you  truly  believe  in  his  reform  ?  " 

"Certainly.     Don't  you?" 

The  direct  return  question  served  to  nettle  and 
confuse  him.  "  It  is,  perhaps,  not  my  place  to  say, 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

as  my  future  happiness  does  not  directly  depend  on 
the  permanence  of  his  reformation.  But  if  his  word 
can  be  depended  upon,  your  happiness  to  a  very  large 
extent  does." 

She  bowed.  "  I  have  no  doubt  you  can  safely 
repose  confidence  in  whatever  he  may  have  told  you 
regarding  me." 

"  You  indorse,  then,  the  claims  he  advances  ?  " 

"  You  are  very  insistent ;  yet  1  know  of  no  good 
reason  why  I  should  not  answer.  Without  at  all 
knowing  the  nature  of  those  claims  to  which  you 
refer,  I  have  no  hesitancy  in  saying  that  I  possess 
such  complete  confidence  in  Bob  Hampton  as  to  reply 
unreservedly  yes.  But  really,  Lieutenant  Brant,  I 
should  prefer  talking  upon  some  other  topic.  It  is 
evident  that  you  two  gentlemen  are  not  friendly, 
yet  there  is  no  reason  why  any  misunderstanding 
between  you  should  interfere  with  our  friendship,  is 
there?"  ' 

She  asked  this  question  with  such  perfect  innocence 
that  Brant  believed  she  failed  to  comprehend  Hamp 
ton's  claims. 

"  I  have  been  informed  that  it  must,"  he  ex 
plained.  "  I  have  been  told  that  I  was  no  longer  to 
force  my  attentions  upon  Miss  Gillis." 

"  By  Bob  Hampton  ?  " 

"Yes.  Those  were,  I  believe,  his  exact  words. 
Can  you  wonder  that  I  hardly  know  how  I  stand  in 
your  sight  ? " 

"  1  do  not  at  all  understand,"  she  faltered. 
"  Truly,  Lieutenant  Brant,  I  do  not.  I  feel  that 

[250] 


LOVES      ME;      LOVES      ME      NOT 

Mr.  Hampton  would  not  say  that  without  a  good 
and  sufficient  reason.  He  is  not  a  man  to  be  swayed 
by  prejudice;  yet,  whatever  the  reason  may  be,  I 
know  nothing  about  it." 

"  But  you  do  not  answer  my  last  query." 

"  Perhaps  I  did  not  hear  it." 

"  It  was,  How  do  I  stand  in  your  sight?  That 
is  of  far  more  importance  to  me  now  than  any  un 
authorized  command  from  Mr.  Hampton." 

She  glanced  up  into  his  serious  face  shyly,  with  a 
little  dimple  of  returning  laughter.  "  Indeed  ;  but 
perhaps  he  might  not  care  to  have  me  say.  However, 
as  I  once  informed  you  that  you  were  very  far  from 
being  my  ideal,  possibly  it  may  now  be  my  duty  to 
qualify  that  harsh  statement  somewhat." 

"  By  confessing  that  I  am  your  ideal  ? " 

"Oh,  indeed,  no!  We  never  realize  our  ideals, 
you  know,  or  else  they  would  entirely  cease  to  be  ideals. 
My  confession  is  limited  to  a  mere  admission  that  I 
now  consider  you  a  very  pleasant  young  man." 

"  You  offer  me  a  stone  when  I  cry  unto  you  for 
bread,"  he  exclaimed.  "  The  world  is  filled  with 
pleasant  young  men.  They  are  a  drug  on  the  market. 
I  beg  some  special  distinction,  some  different  classifi 
cation  in  your  eyes." 

"  You  are  becoming  quite  hard  to  please,"  her  face 
turned  partially  away,  her  look  meditative,  "  and  — 
and  dictatorial;  but  I  will  try.  You  are  intelligent,  a 
splendid  dancer,  fairly  good-looking,  rather  bright  at 
times,  and,  no  doubt,  would  prove  venturesome  if  not 
held  strictly  to  your  proper  place.  Take  it  all  in  all, 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

you  are  even  interesting,  and  —  I  admit  —  I  am  in 
clined  to  like  you/' 

The  tantalizing  tone  and  manner  nerved  him ;  he 
grasped  the  white  hand  resting  invitingly  on  the  grass, 
and  held  it  firmly  within  his  own.  "You  only  make 
sport  as  you  did  once  before.  I  must  have  the 
whole  truth." 

"  Oh,  no;  to  make  sport  at  such  a  time  would  be 
sheerest  mockery,  and  I  would  never  dare  to  be  so 
free.  Why,  remember  we  are  scarcely  more  than 
strangers.  How  rude  you  are  !  only  our  third  time 
of  meeting,  and  you  will  not  release  my  hand." 

"  Not  unless  I  must,  Naida,"  and  the  deep  ringing 
soberness  of  his  voice  startled  the  girl  into  suddenly 
uplifting  her  eyes  to  his  face.  What  she  read  there 
instantly  changed  her  mood  from  playfulness  to 
earnest  gravity. 

"  Oh,  please  do  not  —  do  not  say  what  you  are 
tempted  to,"  her  voice  almost  pleading.  "  I  cannot 
listen;  truly  I  cannot;  I  must  not.  It  would  make 
us  both  very  unhappy,  and  you  would  be  sure  to 
regret  such  hasty  words/* 

"  Regret ! "  and  he  yet  clung  to  the  hand  which  she 
scarcely  endeavored  to  release,  bending  forward,  hoping 
to  read  in  her  hidden  eyes  the  secret  her  lips  guarded. 
"Am  I,  then,  not  old  enough  to  know  my  own  mind  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  yes  ;  I  hope  so,  yes  ;  but  it  is  not  for  me ; 
it  can  never  be  for  me  —  I  am  no  more  than  a  child, 
a  homeless  waif,  a  nobody.  You  forget  that  I  do 
not  even  know  who  I  am,  or  the  name  I  ought  right 
fully  to  bear.  I  will  not  have  it  so." 

[252] 


LOVES      ME;     LOVES      ME     NOT 

"  Naida,  sweetheart  !  "  and  he  burst  impetuously 
through  all  bonds  of  restraint,  her  flushed  cheeks  the 
inspiration  to  his  daring.  "  I  will  speak,  for  I  care 
nothing  for  all  this.  It  is  you  I  love — love  forever. 
Do  you  understand  me,  darling  ?  I  love  you  !  I  love 
you'l" 

For  an  instant,  —  one  glad,  weak,  helpless,  forget 
ful  instant,  —  she  did  not  see  him,  did  not  even  know 
herself;  the  very  world  was  lost.  Then  she  awoke  as 
if  from  a  dream,  his  strong  arms  clasped  about  her, 
his  lips  upon  hers. 

"  You  must  not,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  tell  you  no  !  I 
will  not  consent;  I  will  not  be  false  to  myself.  You 
have  no  right;  I  gave  you  no  right." 

He  permitted  her  to  draw  away,  and  they  stood 
facing  each  other,  he  eager,  mystified,  thrilling  with 
passion  almost  beyond  mastery,  she  trembling  and 
unstrung,  her  cheeks  crimson,  her  eyes  filled  with 
mute  appeal. 

"  I  read  it  in  your  face/'  he  insisted.  "  It  told  of 
love." 

"Then  my  face  must  have  lied,"  she  answered, 
her  soft  voice  tremulous,  "  or  else  you  read  the  mes 
sage  wrongly.  It  is  from  my  lips  you  must  take  the 


answer." 


"And  they  kissed  me." 

"If  so,  I  knew  it  not.  It  was  by  no  volition  of 
mine.  Lieutenant  Brant,  I  have  trusted  you  so  com 
pletely;  that  was  not  right." 

"  My  heart  exonerates  me." 

"  I  cannot  accept  that  guidance." 

l>53] 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

"  Then  you  do  not  love  me." 

She  paused,  afraid  of  the  impulse  that  swept  her 
on.  "  Perhaps,"  the  low  voice  scarcely  audible,  "  I 
may  love  you  too  well." 

"You  mean  there  is  something  —  some  person, 
perhaps  —  standing  between  ?  " 

She  looked  frankly  at  him.  "  I  do  mean  just  that. 
I  am  not  heartless,  and  I  sincerely  wish  we  had  never 
met ;  but  this  must  be  the  end." 

"  The  end  ?     And  with  no  explanation  ?  " 

"There  is  no  other  way."  He  could  perceive 
tears  in  her  eyes,  although  she  spoke  bravely.  "  Nor 
can  I  explain,  for  all  is  not  clear  even  to  me.  But 
this  I  know,  there  is  a  barrier  between  us  insurmount 
able  ;  not  even  the  power  of  love  can  overcome  it ; 
and  I  appeal  to  you  to  ask  me  no  more." 

It  was  impossible  for  him  to  doubt  her  sober 
earnestness,  or  the  depth  of  her  feelings ;  the  full 
truth  in  her  words  was  pictured  upon  her  face,  and  in 
the  pathetic  appeal  of  her  eyes.  She  extended  both 
hands. 

"You  will  forgive  me ?  Truly,  this  barrier  has  not 
been  raised  by  me." 

He  bowed  low,  until  his  lips  pressed  the  white 
fingers,  but  before  he  could  master  himself  to  utter  a 
word  in  reply,  a  distant  voice  called  his  name,  and 
both  glanced  hastily  around. 

"  That  cry  came  from  the  valley,'1  he  said.  cc  I 
left  my  horse  tied  there.  I  will  go  and  learn  what 


it  means." 


She  followed  him   part    of  the  way  through  the 
l>54] 


LOVES      ME;      LOVES      ME     NOT 

labyrinth  of  underbrush,  hardly  knowing  why  she  did 
so.  He  stood  alone  upon  the  summit  of  the  high 
bluff  whence  he  could  look  across  the  stream.  Miss 
Spencer  stood  below  waving  her  parasol  frantically, 
and  even  as  he  gazed  at  her,  his  ears  caught  the  sound 
of  heavy  firing  down  the  valley. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

PLUCKED  FROM  THE  BURNING 

THAT  Miss  Spencer  was  deeply  agitated  was 
evident  at  a  glance,  while  the  nervous  manner 
in  which  she  glanced  in  the  direction  of  those 
distant  gun  shots,  led  Brant  to  jump  to  the  conclusion 
that  they  were  in  some  way  connected  with  her 
appearance. 

"  Oh,  Lieutenant  Brant,"  she  cried,  excitedly, 
"they  are  going  to  kill  him  down  there,  and  he  never 
did  it  at  all.  I  know  he  did  n't,  and  so  does  Mr. 
Wynkoop.  Oh,  please  hurry  !  Nobody  knew  where 
you  were,  until  I  saw  your  horse  tied  here,  and  Mr. 
Wynkoop  has  been  hunting  for  you  everywhere.  He 
is  nearly  frantic,  poor  man,  and  I  cannot  learn  where 
either  Mr.  Moffat  or  Mr.  McNeil  is,  and  I  just  know 
those  dreadful  creatures  will  kill  him  before  we  can 
get  help." 

cc  Kill  whom  ? "  burst  in  Brant,  springing  down  the 
bank  fully  awakened  to  the  realization  of  some  un 
known  emergency.  "  My  dear  Miss  Spencer,  tell 
me  your  story  quickly  if  you  wish  me  to  act.  Who 
is  in  danger,  and  from  what  ?  " 

The  girl  burst  into  tears,  but  struggled  bravely 
through  with  her  message. 

"  It 's  those  awful  men,  the  roughs  and  rowdies 
down  in  Glencaid.  They  say  he  murdered  Red 

[2S6] 


FROM     THE     BURNING 

Slavin,  that  big  gambler  who  spoke  to  me  this  morn 
ing,  but  he  did  n't,  for  I  saw  the  man  who  did,  and  so 
did  Mr.  Wynkoop.  He  jumped  out  of  the  saloon 
window,  his  hand  all  bloody,  and  ran  away.  But 
they  Ve  got  him  and  the  town  marshal  up  behind  the 
Shasta  dump,  and  swear  they  're  going  to  hang  him 
if  they  can  only  take  him  alive.  Oh,  just  hear  those 
awful  guns!  " 

"Yes,  but  who  is  it?" 

"Bob  Hampton,  and  —  and  he  never  did  it  at  all." 

Before  Brant  could  either  move  or  speak,  Naida 
swept  past  him,  down  the  steep  bank,  and  her  voice 
rang  out  clear,  insistent.  "  Bob  Hampton  attacked 
by  a  mob  ?  Is  that  true,  Phoebe  ?  They  are  right 
ing  at  the  Shasta  dump,  you  say  ?  Lieutenant  Brant, 
you  must  act —  you  must  act  now,  for  my  sake  !  " 

She  sprang  toward  the  horse,  nerved  by  Brant's 
apparent  slowness  to  respond,  and  loosened  the  rein 
from  the  scrub  oak.  "Then  I  will  myself  go  to  him, 
even  if  they  kill  me  also,  the  cowards!  " 

But  Brant  had  got  his  head  now.  Grasping  her 
arm  and  the  rein  of  the  plunging  horse,  "  You  will 
go  home,"  he  commanded,  with  the  tone  of  military 
authority.  "Go  home  with  Miss  Spencer.  All  that 
can  possibly  be  done  to  aid  Hampton  I  shall  do- 
will  you  go  ?  " 

She  looked  helplessly  into  his  face.  "You  — 
you  don't  like  him,"  she  faltered ;  "  I  know  you  don't. 
But  — but  you  will  help  him,  won't  you,  for  my 
sake  ? " 

He  crushed  back  an  oath.     "Like  him  or  not  like 
[257] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

him,  I  will  save  him  if  it  be  in  the  power  of  man. 
Now  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  suddenly  extended  her 
arms.  "  Kiss  me  first/' 

With  the  magical  pressure  of  her  lips  upon  his,  he 
swung  into  the  saddle  and  spurred  down  the  road.  It 
was  a  principle  of  his  military  training  never  to  tem 
porize  with  a  mob  —  he  would  strike  hard,  but  he 
must  have  sufficient  force  behind  him.  He  reined  up 
before  the  seemingly  deserted  camp,  his  horse  flung 
back  upon  its  haunches,  white  foam  flecking  its  quiv 
ering  flanks. 

"Sergeant!  "  The  sharp  snap  of  his  voice  brought 
that  officer  forward  on  the  run.  "  Where  are  the 
men  ? " 

"  Playin'  ball,  most  of  'em,  sir,  just  beyond  the 
ridge." 

"  Are  the  horses  out  in  herd  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Sound  the  recall ;  arm  and  mount  every  man  ; 
bring  them  into  Glencaid  on  the  gallop.  Do  you 
know  the  old  Shasta  mine  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  Half-way  up  the  hill  back  of  the  hotel.  You  '11 
find  me  somewhere  in  front  of  it.  This  is  a  matter  of 
life  or  death,  so  jump  lively  now  !  " 

He  drove  in  his  spurs,  and  was  off  like  the  wind. 
A  number  of  men  were  in  the  street,  all  hurrying 
forward  in  the  same  direction,  but  he  dashed  past 
them.  These  were  miners  mostly,  eager  to  have  a 
hand  in  the  man-hunt.  Here  and  there  a  rider  skurried 


FROM    THE     BURNING 

along  and  joined  in  the  chase.  Just  beyond  the 
hotel,  half-way  up  the  hill,  rifles  were  speaking  irregu 
larly,  the  white  puffs  of  smoke  blown  quickly  away 
by  the  stiff  breeze.  Near  the  centre  of  this  line  of 
skirmishers  a  denser  cloud  was  beginning  to  rise  in 
spirals.  Brant,  perceiving  the  largest  group  of  men 
gathered  just  before  him,  rode  straight  toward  them. 
The  crowd  scattered  slightly  at  his  rapid  approach, 
but  promptly  closed  in  again  as  he  drew  up  his  horse 
with  taut  rein.  He  looked  down  into  rough,  bearded 
faces.  Clearly  enough  these  men  were  in  no  fit  spirit 
for  peace-making. 

"You  damn  fool!"  roared  one,  hoarsely,  his  gun 
poised  as  if  in  threat,  "what  do  you  mean  by  riding 
us  down  like  that?  Do  you  own  this  country?" 

Brant  flung  himself  from  the  saddle  and  strode  in 
front  of  the  fellow.  "  I  mean  business.  You  see  this 
uniform  ?  Strike  that,  my  man,  and  you  strike  the 
United  States.  Who  is  leading  this  outfit  ?" 

"I  don't  know  as  it's  your  affair/'  the  man  re 
turned,  sullenly.  "  We  ain't  takin'  no  army  orders  at 
present,  mister.  We  're  free-born  American  citizens, 
an'  ye  better  let  us  alone." 

"That  is  not  what  I  asked  you,"  and  Brant 
squared  his  shoulders,  his  hands  clinched.  "  My 
question  was,  Who  is  at  the  head  of  this  outfit?  and 
I  want  an  answer." 

The  spokesman  looked  around  upon  the  others 
near  him  with  a  grin  of  derision.  "Oh,  ye  do,  hey? 
Well,  I  reckon  we  are,  if  you  must  know.  Since 
Big  Jim  Larson  got  it  in  the  shoulder  this  outfit  right 

[259] 


BOB     HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

yere  hes  bin  doin'  most  of  the  brain  work.  So,  if  ye  've 
got  anythin'  ter  say,  mister  officer  man,  I  reckon 
ye  better  spit  it  out  yere  ter  me,  an*  sorter  relieve 
yer  mind." 

"  Who  are  you?" 

The  fellow  expectorated  vigorously  into  the  leaves 
under  foot,  and  drawing  one  hairy  hand  across  his 
lips,  flushed  angrily  to  the  unexpected  inquiry. 

"Oh,  tell  him,  Ben.  What's  the  blame  odds? 
He  can't  do  ye  no  hurt." 

The  man's  look  became  dogged.  "  I  'm  Ben 
Colton,  if  it  '11  do  ye  any  good  to  know." 

"I  thought  I  had  seen  you  somewhere  before," 
said  Brant,  contemptuously,  and  then  swept  his  glance 
about  the  circle.  "  A  nice  leader  of  vigilantes  you  are, 
a  fine  representative  of  law  and  order,  a  lovely  speci 
men  of  the  free-born  American  citizen  !  Men,  do  you 
happen  to  know  what  sort  of  a  cur  you  are  following 
in  this  affair?" 

"  Oh,  Ben 's  all  right." 

"What  ye  got  against  him,  young  feller?" 

"Just  this,"  and  Brant  squarely  fronted  the  man, 
his  voice  ringing  like  steel.  "  I  've  seen  mobs  before 
to-day,  and  I  've  dealt  with  them.  I  'm  not  afraid  of 
you  or  your  whole  outfit,  and  I  Ve  got  fighting  men  to 
back  me  up.  I  never  yet  saw  any  mob  which  was  n't 
led  and  incited  by  some  cowardly,  revengeful  rascal. 
Honest  men  get  mixed  up  in  such  affairs,  but  they  are 
invariably  inflamed  by  some  low-down  sneak  with  an 
axe  to  grind.  I  confess  I  don't  know  all  about  this 
Colton,  but  I  know  enough  to  say  he  is  an  army 


FROM     THE     BURNING 

deserter,  a  liar,  a  dive-keeper,  a  gambler,  and,  to  my 
certain  knowledge,  the  direct  cause  of  the  death  of 
three  men,  one  a  soldier  of  my  troop.  Now  isn't  he 
a  sweet  specimen  to  lead  in  the  avenging  of  a  supposed 
crime  ? " 

Whatever  else  Colton  might  have  failed  in,  he  was 
a  man  of  action.  Like  a  flash  his  gun  flew  to  the  level, 
but  was  instantly  knocked  aside  by  the  grizzled  old 
miner  standing  next  him. 

"  None  o'  that,  Ben,"  he  growled,  warningly.  "  It 
don't  never  pay  to  shoot  holes  in  Uncle  Sam/' 

Brant  smiled.  He  was  not  there  just  then  to  fight, 
but  to  secure  delay  until  his  own  men  could  arrive,  and 
to  turn  aside  the  fierce  mob  spirit  if  such  a  result  was 
found  possible.  He  knew  thoroughly  the  class  of 
men  with  whom  he  dealt,  and  he  understood  likewise 
the  wholesome  power  of  his  uniform. 

"  I  really  would  enjoy  accommodating  you,  Colton," 
he  said,  coolly,  feeling  much  more  at  ease,  "  but  I  never 
fight  personal  battles  with  such  fellows  as  you.  And 
now,  you  other  men,  it  is  about  time  you  woke  up  to 
the  facts  of  this  matter.  A  couple  of  hundred  of  you 
chasing  after  two  men,  one  an  officer  of  the  law  doing 
his  sworn  duty,  and  the  other  innocent  of  any  crime. 
I  should  imagine  you  would  feel  proud  of  your  job." 

"Innocent?     Hell!" 

"That  is  what  1  said.  You  fellows  have  gone 
off"  half-cocked — a  mob  generally  does.  Both  Miss 
Spencer  and  Mr.  Wynkoop  state  positively  that  they 
saw  the  real  murderer  of  Red  Slavin,  and  it  was  not 
Bob  Hampton." 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

The  men  were  impressed  by  his  evident  earnest 
ness,  his  unquestioned  courage.  Colton  laughed 
sneeringly,  but  Brant  gave  him  no  heed  beyond  a 
quick,  warning  glance.  Several  voices  spoke  almost  at 
once. 

"Is  that  right?" 

"  Oh,  say,  I  saw  the  fellow  with  his  hand  on  the 
knife." 

"  After  we  git  the  chap,  we  '11  give  them  people  a 
chance  to  tell  what  they  know." 

Brant's  keenly  attentive  ears  heard  the  far-off  chug 
of  numerous  horses'  feet. 

"  I  rather  think  you  will,"  he  said,  confidently,  his 
voice  ringing  out  with  sudden  authority. 

He  stepped  back,  lifted  a  silver  whistle  to  his  lips, 
and  sounded  one  sharp,  clear  note.  There  was  a 
growing  thunder  of  hoofs,  a  quick,  manly  cheer,  a 
crashing  through  the  underbrush,  and  a  squad  of 
eager  troopers,  half-dressed  but  with  faces  glowing  in 
anticipation  of  trouble,  came  galloping  up  the  slope, 
swinging  out  into  line  as  they  advanced,  their  carbines 
gleaming  in  the  sunlight.  It  was  prettily,  sharply 
performed,  and  their  officer's  face  brightened. 

"Very  nicely  done,  Watson,"  he  said  to  the  ex 
pectant  sergeant.  "  Deploy  your  men  to  left  and 
right,  and  clear  out  those  shooters.  Make  a  good 
job  of  it,  but  no  firing  unless  you  have  to." 

The  troopers  went  at  it  as  if  they  enjoyed  the 
task,  forcing  their  restive  horses  through  the  thickets, 
and  roughly  handling  more  than  one  who  ventured  to 
question  their  authority.  Yet  the  work  was  over  in 

[262] 


FROM     THE     BURNING 

less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell,  the  discomfited  regula 
tors  driven  pell-mell  down  the  hill  and  back  into  the 
town,  the  eager  cavalrymen  halting  only  at  the  com 
mand  of  the  bugle.  Brant,  confident  of  his  first 
sergeant  in  such  emergency,  merely  paused  long 
enough  to  watch  the  men  deploy,  and  then  pressed 
straight  up  the  hill,  alone  and  on  foot.  That  danger 
to  the  besieged  was  yet  imminent  was  very  evident. 
The  black  spiral  of  smoke  had  become  an  enveloping 
cloud,  spreading  rapidly  in  both  directions  from  its 
original  starting-point,  and  already  he  could  distinguish 
the  red  glare  of  angry  flames  leaping  beneath,  fanned 
by  the  wind  into  great  sheets  of  fire,  and  sweeping 
forward-  with  incredible  swiftness.  These  might  not 
succeed  in  reaching  the  imprisoned  men,  but  the 
stifling  vapor,  the  suffocating  smoke  held  captive  by 
that  overhanging  rock,  would  prove  a  most  serious 
menace. 

He  encountered  a  number  of  men  running  down 
as  he  toiled  anxiously  forward,  but  they  avoided  him, 
no  doubt  already  aware  of  the  trouble  below  and 
warned  by  his  uniform.  He  arrived  finally  where  the 
ground  was  charred  black  and  covered  with  wood 
ashes,  still  hot  under  foot  and  smoking,  but  he  pressed 
upward,  sheltering  his  eyes  with  uplifted  arm,  and 
seeking  passage  where  the  scarcity  of  underbrush  ren 
dered  the  zone  of  fire  less  impassable.  On  both 
sides  trees  were  already  wrapped  in  flame,  yet  he  dis 
covered  a  lane  along  which  he  stumbled  until  a  fringe 
of  burning  bushes  extended  completely  across  it. 
The  heat  was  almost  intolerable,  the  crackling  of  the 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

ignited  wood  was  like  the  reports  of  pistols,  the  dense 
pall  of  smoke  was  suffocating.  He  could  see  scarcely 
three  yards  in  advance,  but  to  the  rear  the  narrow 
lane  of  retreat  remained  open.  Standing  there,  as 
though  in  the  mouth  of  a  furnace,  the  red  flames 
scorching  his  face,  Brant  hollowed  his  hands  for  a  call. 

"  Hampton  !  "  The  word  rang  out  over  the  in 
fernal  crackling  and  roaring  like  the  note  of  a  trumpet. 

"Ay!  What  is  it?"  The  returning  voice  was 
plainly  not  Hampton's,  yet  it  came  from  directly  in 
front,  and  not  far  away. 

"  Who  are  you  ?     Is  that  you,  Marshal  ? " 

"  Thet  's  the  ticket,"  answered  the  voice,  gruffly, 
cc  an*  just  as  full  o'  fight  es  ever." 

Brant  lifted  his  jacket  to  protect  his  face  from  the 
scorching  heat.  There  was  certainly  no  time  to  lose 
in  any  exchange  of  compliments.  Already,  the 
flames  were  closing  in;  in  five  minutes  more  they 
would  seal  every  avenue  of  escape. 

"  I  'm  Brant,  Lieutenant  Seventh  Cavalry,"  he 
cried,  choking  with  the  thickening  smoke.  "  My 
troop  has  scattered  those  fellows  who  were  hunting 
you.  I  '11  protect  you  and  your  prisoner,  but  you  '11 
have  to  get  out  of  there  at  once.  Can  you  locate  me 
and  make  a  dash  for  it?  Wrap  your  coats  around 
your  heads,  and  leave  your  guns  behind." 

An  instant  he  waited  for  the  answer,  fairly  writhing 
in  the  intense  heat,  then  Mason  shouted,  "  Hamp 
ton  's  been  shot,  and  I  'm  winged  a  little ;  I  can't 
carry  him." 

It  was  a  desperately  hard  thing  to  do,  but  Brant 


FROM     THE     BURNING 

had  given  his  promise,  and  in  that  moment  of 
supreme  trial,  he  had  no  other  thought  than  fulfilling 
it.  He  ripped  off  his  jacket,  wrapped  it  about  his 
face,  jammed  a  handkerchief  into  his  mouth,  and, 
with  a  prayer  in  his  heart,  leaped  forward  into  the 
seemingly  narrow  fringe  of  fire  in  his  front.  Head 
down,  he  ran  blindly,  stumbling  forward  as  he  struck 
the  ore-dump,  and  beating  out  with  his  hands  the 
sparks  that  scorched  his  clothing.  The  smoke 
appeared  to  roll  higher  from  the  ground  here,  and  the 
coughing  soldier  crept  up  beneath  it,  breathing  the 
hot  air,  and  feeling  as  though  his  entire  body  were 
afire.  Mason,  his  countenance  black  and  unrecog 
nizable,  his  shirt  soaked  with  blood,  peered  into  his 
face. 

"Hell,  ain't  it  I'1  he  sputtered,  "but  you're  a 
dandy,  all  right." 

"Is  Hampton  dead?" 

"  I  reckon  not.  Got  hit  bad,  though,  and  clear 
out  of  his  head/1 

Brant  cast  one  glance  into  the  white,  unconscious 
face  of  his  rival,  and  acted  with  the  promptness  of 
military  training. 

"  Whip  off  your  shirt,  Mason,  and  tie  it  around 
your  face,"  he  commanded.  "  Lively  now  !  " 

He  bound  his  silk  neckerchief  across  Hampton's 
mouth,  and  lifted  the  limp  form  partially  from  the 
ground.  "  Help  me  to  get  him  up.  There,  that  will 
do.  Now  keep  as  close  as  you  can  so  as  to  steady 
him  if  I  trip.  Straight  ahead —  run  for  it! " 

They    sprang    directly    into    the     lurid     flames, 

[265] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

bending  low,  Brant's  hands  grasping  the  inert  form 
lying  across  his  shoulder.  They  dashed  stumbling 
through  the  black,  smouldering  lane  beyond.  Half 
way  down  this,  the  ground  yet  hot  beneath  their  feet, 
the  vapor  stifling,  but  with  clearer  breaths  of  air 
blowing  in  their  faces,  Brant  tripped  and  fell.  Mason 
beat  out  the  smouldering  sparks  in  his  clothing,  and 
assisted  him  to  stagger  to  his  feet  once  more.  Then 
together  they  bore  him,  now  unconscious,  slowly 
down  below  the  first  fire-line. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  DOOR  CLOSES 

TOTALLY  exhausted,  the  two  men  dropped 
their  heavy  burden  on  the  earth.  Mason  swore 
as  the  blood  began  dripping  again  from  his 
wound,  which  had  been  torn  open  afresh  in  his  efforts 
to  bear  Hampton  to  safety.  Just  below  them  a 
mounted  trooper  caught  sight  of  them  and  came  for 
ward.  He  failed  to  recognize  his  officer  in  the  be 
grimed  person  before  him,  until  called  to  attention 
by  the  voice  of  command. 

"  Sims,  if  there  is  any  water  in  your  canteen  hand 
it  over.  Good ;  here,  Marshal,  use  this.  Now,  Sims, 
note  what  I  say  carefully,  and  don't  waste  a  minute. 
Tell  the  first  sergeant  to  send  a  file  of  men  up  here 
with  some  sort  of  litter,  on  the  run.  Then  you  ride 
to  the  Herndon  house  —  the  yellow  house  where  the 
roads  fork,  you  remember,  —  and  tell  Miss  Naida  Gil- 
lis  (don't  forget  the  name)  that  Mr.  Hampton  has 
been  seriously  wounded,  and  we  are  taking  him  to  the 
hotel.  Can  you  remember  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  off  with  you,  and  don't  spare  the  horse." 

He  was  gone  instantly,  and  Brant  began  bathing 
the  pallid,  upturned  face. 

"  You  'd  better  lie  down,  Marshal,"  he  com 
manded.  "You're  pretty  weak  from  loss  of  blood, 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

and  I  can  do  all  there  is  to  be  done  until  those  fellows 
get  here." 

In  fifteen  minutes  they  appeared,  and  five  minutes 
later  they  were  toiling  slowly  down  to  the  valley, 
Brant  walking  beside  his  still  unconscious  rival. 
Squads  of  troopers  were  scattered  along  the  base  of  the 
hill,  and  grouped  in  front  of  the  hotel.  Here  and 
there  down  the  street,  but  especially  about  the  steps  of 
the  Occidental,  were  gathered  the  discomfited  vigi 
lantes,  busily  discussing  the  affair,  and  cursing  the 
watchful,  silent  guard.  As  these  caught  sight  of  the 
little  party  approaching,  there  were  shouts  of  derision, 
which  swelled  into  triumph  when  they  perceived 
Hampton's  apparently  lifeless  form,  and  Mason  lean 
ing  in  weakness  on  the  arm  of  a  trooper.  The  sight 
and  sound  angered  Brant. 

"  Carry  Hampton  to  his  room  and  summon  medi 
cal  attendance  at  once,"  he  ordered.  "  I  have  a  word 
to  say  to  those  fellows/' 

Seeing  Mr.  Wynkoop  on  the  hotel  porch,  Brant 
said  to  him :  "  Miss  Spencer  informed  me  that  you 
saw  a  man  leap  from  the  back  window  of  the  Occi 
dental.  Is  that  true  ?" 

The  missionary  nodded. 

"  Good;  then  come  along  with  me.  I  intend  break 
ing  the  back  of  this  lynching  business  right  here  and 
now." 

He  strode  directly  across  the  street  to  the  steps  of 
the  Occidental,  his  clothing  scarcely  more  than  smould 
ering  rags.  The  crowd  stared  at  him  sullenly;  then 
suddenly  a  reaction  came,  and  the  American  spirit 

[268] 


THE     DOOR     CLOSES 

of  fair  play,  the  frontier  appreciation  of  bulldog 
courage,  burst  forth  into  a  confused  murmur,  that 
became  half  a  cheer.  Brant  did  not  mince  his 
words. 

*'  Now,  look  here,  men!  If  you  want  any  more 
trouble  we  're  here  to  accommodate  you.  Fighting  is 
our  trade,  and  we  don't  mind  working  at  it.  But  I 
wish  to  tell  you  right  now,  and  straight  off  the  handle, 
that  you  are  simply  making  a  parcel  of  fools  of  your 
selves.  Slavin  has  been  killed,  and  nine  out  of  ten 
among  you  are  secretly  glad  of  it.  He  was  a  curse  to 
this  camp,  but  because  some  of  his  friends  and  cronies 
—  thugs,  gamblers,  and  dive-keepers  —  accuse  Bob 
Hampton  of  having  killed  him,  you  start  in  blindly 
to  lynch  Hampton,  never  even  waiting  to  find  out 
whether  the  charge  is  the  truth  or  a  lie.  You  act  like 
sheep,  not  American  citizens.  Now  that  we  have 
pounded  a  little  sense  into  some  of  you,  perhaps  you'll 
listen  to  the  facts,  and  if  you  must  hfang  some  one 
put  your  rope  on  the  right  man.  Bob  Hampton  did 
not  kill  Red  Slavin.  The  fellow  who  did  kill  him 
climbed  out  of  the  back  window  of  the  Occidental 
here,  and  got  away,  while  you  were  chasing  the  wrong 
man.  Mr.  Wynkoop  saw  him,  and  so  did  your  school 
teacher,  Miss  Spencer." 

Then  Wynkoop  stepped  gamely  to  the  front.  "All 
that  is  true,  men.  I  have  been  trying  ever  since  to 
to  tell  you,  but  no  one  would  listen.  Miss  Spencer 
and  I  both  saw  the  man  jump  from  the  window; 
there  was  blood  on  his  right  arm  and  hand.  He 
was  a  misshapen  creature  whom  neither  of  us  ever 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

saw  before,  and  he  disappeared  on  a  run  up  that 
ravine.  I  have  no  doubt  he  was  Slavin's  murderer." 

No  one  spoke,  the  crowd  apparently  ashamed  of 
their  actions.  But  Brant  did  not  wait  for  any  out 
ward  expression. 

"  Now,  you  fellows,  think  that  over,"  he  said.  cc  I 
intend  to  post  a  guard  until  I  find  out  whether  you  are 
going  to  prove  yourselves  fools  or  men,  but  if  we  sail 
in  again  those  of  you  who  start  the  trouble  can  expect 
to  get  hurt,  and  pay  the  piper.  That's  all/' 

In  front  of  the  hotel  porch  he  met  his  first  sergeant 
coming  out. 

"  What  does  the  doctor  say  about  Hampton  ?  " 

"  A  very  bad  wound,  sir,  but  not  necessarily  fatal ; 
he  has  regained  consciousness." 

"  Has  Miss  Gillis  arrived  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir ;  there 's  a  young  woman  ctyin* 
in  the  parlor." 

The  lieutenant  leaped  up  the  steps  and  entered 
the  house.  But  it  was  Miss  Spencer,  not  Naida,  who 
sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Oh,  Lieutenant  Brant ;  can  this  be  truly  you  ! 
How  perfectly  awful  you  look  !  Do  you  know  if  Mr. 
Hampton  is  really  going  to  die  ?  I  came  here  just  to 
find  out  about  him,  and  tell  Naida.  She  is  almost 
frantic,  poor  thing." 

Though  Brant  doubted  Miss  Spencer's  honesty  of 
statement,  his  reply  was  direct  and  unhesitating.  "  I 
am  informed  that  he, has  a  good  chance  to  live,  and 
I  have  already  despatched  word  to  Miss  Gillis  regard 
ing  his  condition.  I  expect  her  at  any  moment." 

[270] 


THE     DOOR     CLOSES 

"  How  very  nice  that  was  of  you  !  Oh,  I  trembled 
so  when  you  first  went  to  face  those  angry  men  !  I 
don't  see  how  you  ever  dared  to  do  it.  I  did  wish 
that  either  Mr.  Moffat  or  Mr.  McNeil  could  have 
been  here  to  go  with  you.  Mr.  Moffat  especially  is 
so  daring ;  he  is  always  risking  his  life  for  some  one 
else  —  and  no  one  seems  able  to  tell  me  anything 
about  either  of  them."  The  lady  paused,  blushing 
violently,  as  she  realized  what  she  had  been  saying. 
"  Really  you  must  not  suppose  me  unmaidenly,  Lieu 
tenant,"  she  explained,  her  eyes  shyly  lifting,  "  but  you 
know  those  gentlemen  were  my  very  earliest  acquaint 
ances  here,  and  they  have  been  so  kind.  I  was  so 
shocked  when  Naida  kissed  you,  Lieutenant ;  but  the 
poor  girl  was  so  grateful  to  you  for  going  to  the  help 
of  Bob  Hampton  that  she  completely  forgot  herself. 
It  is  simply  wonderful  how  infatuated  the  poor  child 
is  with  that  man.  He  seems  almost  to  exercise  some 
power  of  magic  over  her,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"Why  frankly,  Miss  Spencer,  I  scarcely  feel  like 
discussing  that  topic  just  now.  There  are  so  many 
duties  pressing  me  — "  and  Brant  took  a  hasty  step 
toward  the  open  door,  his  attentive  ear  catching  the 
sound  of  a  light  footstep  in  the  hallway.  He  met 
Naida  just  without,  pale  and  tearless.  Both  her  hands 
were  extended  to  him  unreservedly. 

"  Tell  me,  will  he  live  ?  " 

"  The  doctor  thinks  yes.0 

"  Thank  God  !  Oh,  thank  God!  "  She  pressed 
one  hand  against  her  heart  to  control  its  throbbing. 
"  You  cannot  know  what  this  means  to  me."  Her  eyes 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

seemed  now  for  the  first  time  to  mark  his  own  deplor 
able  condition.  "And  you?  You  have  not  been 
hurt,  Lieutenant  Brant  ?  " 

He  smiled  back  into  her  anxious  eyes.  "  Noth 
ing  that  soap  and  water  and  a  few  days'  retirement 
will  not  wholly  remedy.  My  wounds  are  entirely 
upon  the  surface.  Shall  I  conduct  you  to  him  ?  " 

She  bowed,  apparently  forgetful  that  one  of  her 
hands  yet  remained  imprisoned  in  his  grasp.  "If  I 
may  go,  yes.  I  told  Mrs.  Herndon  I  should  remain 
here  if  I  could  be  of  the  slightest  assistance." 

They  passed  up  the  staircase  side  by  side,  exchang 
ing  no  further  speech.  Once  she  glanced  furtively  at 
his  face,  but  its  very  calmness  kept  the  words  upon 
her  lips  unuttered.  At  the  door  they  encountered 
Mrs.  Guffy,  her  honest  eyes  red  from  weeping. 

"This  is  Miss  Gillis,  Mrs.  Guffy,"  explained 
Brant.  "  She  wishes  to  see  Mr.  Hampton  if  it  is 
possible." 

"  Sure  an'  she  can  thet.  He 's  been  askin*  after 
her,  an*  thet  pretty  face  would  kape  any  man  in  gud 
spirits,  I  'm  thinkin'.  Step  roight  in,  miss." 

She  held  the  door  ajar,  but  Naida  paused,  glancing 
back  at  her  motionless  companion,  a  glint  of  unshed 
tears  showing  for  the  first  time  in  her  eyes.  "  Are  you 
not  coming  also  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Naida.  It  is  best  for  me  to  remain 
without,  but  my  heart  goes  with  you." 

Then  the  door  closed  between  them. 


[272] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  RESCUE  OF  Miss  SPENCER 

WHILE  Hampton  lingered  between  life  and 
death,  assiduously  waited  upon  by  both 
Naida  and  Mrs.  GufFy,  Brant  nursed  his 
burns,  far  more  serious  than  he  had  at  first  supposed, 
within  the  sanctity  of  his  tent,  longing  for  an  order 
to  take  him  elsewhere,  and  dreading  the  possibility  of 
again  having  to  encounter  this  girl,  who  remained  to 
him  so  perplexing  an  enigma.  Glencaid  meanwhile 
recovered  from  its  mania  of  lynch-law,  and  even 
began  exhibiting  some  faint  evidences  of  shame  over 
what  was  so  plainly  a  mistake.  And  the  populace 
were  also  beginning  to  exhibit  no  small  degree  of  in 
terest  in  the  weighty  matters  which  concerned  the  fast- 
culminating  love  affairs  of  Miss  Spencer. 

Almost  from  her  earliest  arrival  the  extensive  cattle 
and  mining  interests  of  the  neighborhood  became 
aggressively  arrayed  against  each  other ;  and  now,  as 
the  fierce  personal  rivalry  between  Messrs.  Moffat 
and  McNeil  grew  more  intense,  the  breach  percep 
tibly  widened.  While  the  infatuation  of  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Wynkoop  for  this  same  fascinating  young  lady 
was  plainly  to  be  seen,  his  chances  in  the  race  were 
not  seriously  regarded  by  the  more  active  partisans 
upon  either  side.  As  the  stage  driver  explained  to 
an  inquisitive  party  of  tourists,  "  He  's  a  mighty  fine 

[273] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

little  feller,  gents,  but  he  ain't  got  the-  git  up  an*  git 
necessary  ter  take  the  boundin'  fancy  of  a  high-strung 
heifer  like  her.  It  needs  a  plum  good  man  ter'  rope 
an'  tie  any  female  critter  in  this  Territory,  let  me 
tell  ye." 

With  this  conception  of  the  situation  in  mind,  the 
citizens  generally  settled  themselves  down  to  enjoy 
the  truly  Homeric  struggle,  freely  wagering  their  gold- 
dust  upon  the  outcome.  The  regular  patrons  of  the 
Miners'  Retreat  were  backing  Mr.  Moffat  to  a  man, 
while  those  claiming  headquarters  at  the  Occidental 
were  equally  ardent  in  their  support  of  the  prospects 
of  Mr.  McNeil.  It  must  be  confessed  that  Miss 
Spencer  flirted  outrageously,  and  enjoyed  life  as  she 
never  had  done  in  the  effete  East. 

In  simple  truth,  it  was  not  in  Miss  Spencer's  sym 
pathetic  disposition  to  be  cruel  to  any  man,  and  in 
this  puzzling  situation  she  exhibited  all  the  impartiality 
possible.  The  Reverend  Mr.  Wynkoop  always  felt 
serenely  confident  of  an  uninterrupted  welcome  upon 
Sunday  evenings  after  service,  while  the  other  nights 
of  the  week  were  evenly  apportioned  between  the  two 
more  ardent  aspirants.  The  delvers  after  mineral 
wealth  amid  the  hills,  and  the  herders  on  the  surround 
ing  ranches,  felt  that  this  was  a  personal  matter  between 
them,  and  acted  accordingly.  Three-finger  Boone, 
who  was  caught  red-handed  timing  the  exact  hour  of 
Mr.  Moffat's  exit  from  his  lady-love's  presence,  was 
indignantly  ducked  in  the  watering-trough  before  the 
Miners'  Retreat,  and  given  ten  minutes  in  which  to 
mount  his  cayuse  and  get  safely  across  the  camp 

[274] 


RESCUE      OF      MISS      SPENCER 

boundaries.  He  required  only  five.  Bad-eye  Con 
nelly,  who  was  suspected  of  having  cut  Mr.  McNeil's 
lariat  while  that  gentleman  tarried  at  the  Occidental  for 
some  slight  refreshments  while  on  his  way  home,  was 
very  promptly  rendered  a  fit  hospital  subject  by  an 
inquisitive  cowman  who  happened  upon  the  scene. 

On  Monday,  Wednesday,  and  Friday  evenings  the 
Miners'  Retreat  was  a  scene  of  wild  hilarity,  for  it  was 
then  that  Mr.  Moffat,  gorgeously  arrayed  in  all  the 
bright  hues  of  his  imported  Mexican  outfit,  his  long 
silky  mustaches  properly  curled,  his  melancholy  eyes 
vast  wells  of  mysterious  sorrow,  was  known  to  be 
comfortably  seated  in  the  Herndon  parlor,  relating 
gruesome  tales  of  wild  mountain  adventure  which 
paled  the  cheeks  of  his  fair  and  entranced  listener. 
Then  on  Tuesday,  Thursday,  and  Saturday  nights, 
when  Mr.  McNeil  rode  gallantly  in  on  his  yellow 
bronco,  bedecked  in  all  the  picturesque  paraphernalia 
of  the  boundless  plains,  revolver  swinging  at  thigh,  his 
wide  sombrero  shadowing  his  dare-devil  eyes,  the  front 
of  the  gay  Occidental  blazed  with  lights,  and  became 
crowded  to  the  doors  with  enthusiastic  herders  drink 
ing  deep  to  the  success  of  their  representative. 

It  is  no  more  than  simple  justice  to  the  fair 
Phoebe  to  state  that  she  was,  as  her  aunt  expressed  it, 
"in  a  dreadful  state  of  mind."  Between  these  two 
picturesque  and  typical  knights  of  plain  and  mountain 
she  vibrated,  unable  to  make  deliberate  choice.  That 
she  was  ardently  loved  by  each  she  realized  with  recur 
ring  thrills  of  pleasure  ;  that  she  loved  in  return  she 
felt  no  doubt — but  alas!  which?  How  perfectly 

[275] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

delightful  it  would  be  could  she  only  fall  into  some 
desperate  plight,  from  which  the  really  daring  knight 
might  rescue  her  !  That  would  cut  the  Gordian  knot. 
While  laboring  in  this  state  of  indecision  she  must 
have  voiced  her  ambition  in  some  effective  manner  to 
the  parties  concerned,  for  late  one  Wednesday  night 
MofFat  tramped  heavily  into  the  Miners'  Retreat  and 
called  Long  Pete  Lumley  over  into  a  deserted  corner 
of  the  bar-room. 

"  Well,  Jack,"  the  latter  began  expectantly,  "  hev 
ye  railly  got  the  cinch  on  that  cowboy  at  last,  hey  ?  "  5 

"Dern  it  all,  Pete,  I  'm  blamed  if  I  know;  least 
wise,  I  ain't  got  no  sure  prove-up.  I  tell  ye  thet 
girl 's  just  about  the  toughest  piece  o'  rock  I  ever  had 
any  special  call  to  assay.  I  think  first  I  got  her  good 
an'  proper,  an'  then  she  drops  out  all  of  a  sudden, 
an'  I  lose  the  lead.  It 's  mighty  aggravating  let  me 
tell  ye.  Ye  see  it 's  this  way.  She  's  got  some  durn 
down  East  notion  that  she  's  got  ter  be  rescued,  an* 
borne  away  in  the  arms  of  her  hero  (thet 's  'bout  the 
way  she  puts  it),  like  they  do  in  them  pesky  novels 
the  Kid  's  allers  readin',  and  so  I  reckon  I  Ve  got  ter 
rescue  her ! " 

c'  Rescue  her  from  whut,  Jack  ?  Thar*  ain't 
nuthin'  'round  yere  just  now  as  I  know  of,  less  it 's 
rats." 

The  lover  glanced  about  to  make  sure  they  were 
alone.  "  Well,  ye  sec,  Pete,  maybe  I  'm  partly  to 
blame.  I  Ve  sorter  been  entertainin*  her  nights  with 
some  stories  regardin'  road-agents  an'  things  o'  thet 
sort,  while,  so  fur  as  I  kin  larn,  thet  blame  chump 

[276] 


RESCUE      OF      MISS      SPENCER 

of  a  McNeil  hes  been  fillin'  her  up  scandalous  with 
Injuns,  until  she's  plum  got  'em  on  the  brain.  Ye 
know  a  feller  jist  hes  ter  gas  along  'bout  somethin' 
like  thet,  fer  it's  no  fool  job  ter  entertain  a  female 
thet  's  es  frisky  es  a  young  colt.  And  now,  I  reckon 
as  how  it's  got  ter  be  Injuns." 

"  Whut  's  got  ter  be  Injuns  ?  " 

"  Why  thet  outfit  whut  runs  off  with  her,  of  course. 
I  reckon  you  fellers  will  stand  in  all  right  ter  help  pull 
me  out  o'  this  hole  ?" 

Long  Pete  nodded. 

"  Well,  Pete,  this  is  'bout  whut 's  got  ter  be  done, 
es  near  es  I  kin  figger  it  out.  You  pick  out  maybe 
half  a  dozen  good  fellers,  who  kin  keep  their  mouths 
shet,  an*  make  Injuns  out  of  'em.  '  Tain't  likely  she  '11 
ever  twig  any  of  the  boys  fixed  up  proper  in  thet 
sorter  outfit  —  anyhow,  she 'd  be  too  durned  skeered. 
Then  you  lay  fer  her,  say  'bout  next  Wednesday,  out 
in  them  Carter  woods,  when  she  's  comin'  home  from 
school.  I  '11  kinder  naturally  happen  'long  by  accident 
'bout  the  head  o'  the  gulch,  an*  jump  in  an'  rescue 
her.  Sake?" 

Lumley  gazed  at  his  companion  with  eyes  express 
ive  of  admiration.  "By  thunder,  if  you  haven't  got 
a  cocoanut  on  ye,  Jack !  Lord,  but  thet  ought  to 
get  her  a  flyin* !  Any  shootin'  ?  " 

"  Sure  !  "  Moffat's  face  exhibited  a  faint  smile  at 
these  words  of  praise.  "It  wouldn't  be  no  great 
shucks  of  a  rescue  without,  an'  this  hes  got  ter  be  the 
real  thing.  Only,  I  reckon,  ye  better  shoot  high,  so 
thar'  won't  be  no  hurt  done." 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF      PLACER 

When  the  two  gentlemen  parted,  a  few  moments 
later,  the  conspiracy  was  fully  hatched,  all  prelimina 
ries  perfected,  and  the  gallant  rescue  of  Miss  Spencer 
assured.  Indeed,  there  is  some  reason  now  to  believe 
that  this  desirable  result  was  rendered  doubly  certain, 
for  as  Moffat  moved  slowly  past  the  Occidental  on  his 
way  home,  a  person  attired  in  chaps  and  sombrero, 
and  greatly  resembling  McNeil,  was  in  the  back  room, 
breathing  some  final  instructions  to  a  few  bosom 
friends. 

"  Now  don't  —  eh  —  any  o*  you  fellers  —  eh  —  go 
an*  ferget  the  place.  Jump  in  —  eh  —  lively,  just 
afore  she  —  eh  —  gits  ter  thet  thick  bunch  —  eh  — 
underbrush,  whar'  the  trail  sorter  —  eh  —  drops  down 
inter  the  ravine.  An'  you  chumps  wanter  —  eh  —  git 
—  yerselves  up  so  she  can't  pipe  any  of  ye  off — eh  — 
in  this  yere  —  eh  —  road-agent  act.  I  tell  ye,  after 
what  thet  —  eh  —  Moffat 's  bin  a-pumpin*  inter  her, 
she 's  just  got  ter  be  — -  eh  —  rescued,  an'  in  blame  good 
style,  er  —  eh  —  it  ain't  no  go." 

"  Oh,  you  rest  easy  'bout  all  thet,  Bill,"  chimed  in 
Sandy  Winn,  his  black  eyes  dancing  in  anticipation  of 
coming  fun.  "  We  '11  git  up  the  ornariest  outfit  whut 
ever  hit  the  pike." 

The  long  shadows  of  the  late  afternoon  were  al 
ready  falling  across  the  gloomy  Carter  woods,  while 
the  red  sun  sank  lower  behind  old  Bull  Mountain. 
The  Reverend  Howard  Wynkoop,  who  for  more  than 
an  hour  past  had  been  vainly  dangling  a  fishing-line 
above  the  dancing  waters  of  Clear  Creek,  now  reclined 
dreamily  on  the  soft  turf  of  the  high  bank,  his  eyes 

[278] 


RESCUE      OF      MISS      SPENCER 

fixed  upon  the  distant  sky-line.  His  thoughts  were 
on  the  flossy  hair  and  animated  face  of  the  fair  Miss 
Spencer,  who  he  momentarily  expected  would  round 
the  edge  of  the  hill,  and  so  deeply  did  he  become  sunk 
in  blissful  reflection  as  to  be  totally  oblivious  to  every 
thing  but  her  approach. 

Just  above  his  secret  resting-place,  where  the  great 
woods  deepen,  and  the  gloomy  shadows  lie  darkly  all 
through  the  long  afternoons,  a  small  party  of  hideously 
painted  savages  skulked  silently  in  ambush.  Sud 
denly  to  their  strained  ears  was  borne  the  sound  of 
horses'  hoofs  ;  and  then,  all  at  once,  a  woman's  voice 
rang  out  in  a  single  shrill,  startled  cry. 

"  Whut  is  up  ? "  questioned  the  leading  savage, 
hoarsely.  cc  Is  he  a-doin'  this  little  job  all  by  hisself  ?  " 

"  Dunno,"  answered  the  fellow  next  him,  flipping 
his  quirt  uneasily  ;  "but  I  reckon  as  how  it's  her  as 
squealed,  an*  we'd  better  be  gitting  in  ter  hev  our 
share  o*  the  fun." 

The  "chief,"  with  an  oath  of  disgust,  dashed  for 
ward,  and  his  band  surged  after.  Just  below  them, 
and  scarcely  fifty  feet  away,  a  half-score  of  roughly 
clad,  heavily  bearded  men  were  clustered  in  the  centre 
of  the  trail,  two  of  their  number  lifting  the  unconscious 
form  of  a  fainting  woman  upon  a  horse. 

"  Cervera's  gang,  by  gosh !  "  panted  the  leading 
savage.  "  How  did  they  git  yere  ?  " 

"  You  bet !  She 's  up  agin  the  real  thing,"  ejacu 
lated  a  voice  beside  him.  "Let's  ride  'em  off  the 
earth!  Whoop!" 

With  wild  yells  to  awaken  fresh  courage,  the  whole 

[279] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

band  plunged  headlong  down  the  sharp  decline, 
striking  the  surprised  "  road-agents  "  with  a  force  and 
suddenness  which  sent  half  of  them  sprawling. 
Revolvers  flashed,  oaths  and  shouts  rang  out  fiercely, 
men  clinched  each  other,  striking  savage  blows. 
Lumley  grasped  the  leader  of  the  other  party  by  the 
hair,  and  endeavored  to  beat  him  over  the  head  with 
his  revolver  butt.  Even  as  he  uplifted  his  hand  to 
strike,  the  man's  beard  fell  off,  and  the  two  fierce 
combatants  paused  as  though  thunderstruck. 

"Hold  on  yere,  boy!"  yelled  Lumley.  "This 
yere  is  some  blame  joke.  These  fellers  is  Bill 
McNeil's  gang." 

"  By  thunder !  if  it  ain't  Pete  Lumley,"  ejaculated 
the  other.  "  Whut  did  ye  hit  me  fer,  ye  long-legged 
minin'  jackass  ? " 

The  explanation  was  never  uttered.  Out  from  the 
surrounding  gloom  of  underbrush  a  hatless,  dishevelled 
individual  on  foot  suddenly  dashed  into  the  centre  of 
that  hesitating  ring  of  horsemen.  With  skilful  twist 
of  his  foot  he  sent  a  dismounted  road-agent  spinning 
over  backward,  and  managed  to  wrench  a  revolver 
from  his  hand.  There  was  a  blaze  of  red  flame,  a 
cloud  of  smoke,  six  sharp  reports,  and  a  wild  stampede 
of  frantic  horsemen. 

Then  the  Reverend  Howard  Wynkoop  flung  the 
empty  gun  disdainfully  down  into  the  dirt,  stepped 
directly  across  the  motionless  outstretched  body,  and 
knelt  humbly  beside  a  slender,  white-robed  figure  lying 
close  against  the  fringe  of  bushes.  Tenderly  he  lifted 
the  fair  head  to  his  throbbing  bosom,  and  gazed 


RESCUE     OF      MISS      SPENCER 

directly  down  into  the  white,  unconscious  face.  Even 
as  he  looked  her  eyes  unclosed,  her  body  trembling 
within  his  arms. 

"  Have  no  fear,"  he  implored,  reading  terror  in 
the  expression  of  her  face.  "  Miss  Spencer  —  Phoebe 
—  it  is  only  I,  Mr.  Wynkoop." 

"  You  !    Have  those  awful  creatures  gone  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes;  be  calm,  I  beg  you.  There  is  no 
longer  the  slightest  danger.  I  am  here  to  protect  you 
with  my  life  if  need  be." 

"Oh,  Howard — Mr.  Wynkoop  —  it  is  all  so 
strange,  so  bewildering ;  my  nerves  are  so  shattered  ! 
But  it  has  taught  me  a  great,  great  lesson.  How 
could  I  have  ever  been  so  blind  ?  I  thought  Mr. 
Moffat  and  Mr.  McNeil  were  such  heroes,  and  yet 
now  in  this  hour  of  desperate  peril  it  was  you  who  flew 
gallantly  to  my  rescue !  It  is  you  who  are  the  true 
Western  knight ! " 

And  Mr.  Wynkoop  gazed  down  into  those  grate 
ful  eyes,  and  modestly  confessed  it  true. 


[a8i] 


CHAPTER  XVII 
THE  PARTING  HOUR 

TO    Lieutenant    Brant     these    proved    days    of 
bitterness.     His  sole  comfort  was  the  feeling 
that  he  had  performed  his  duty ;  his  sustaining 
hope,  that  the  increasing  rumors    of  Indian  atrocity 
might  soon  lead  to  his   despatch  upon  active  service. 
He  had  called  twice  upon  Hampton,  both  times  find 
ing  the  wounded  man  propped  up  in  bed,  very  affable, 
properly  grateful  for  services  rendered,  yet  avoiding 
all  reference  to  the  one  disturbing  element  between 
them. 

Once  he  had  accidentally  met  Naida,  but  their 
brief  conversation  left  him  more  deeply  mystified  then 
ever,  and  later  she  seemed  to  avoid  him  altogether. 
The  barrier  between  them  no  longer  appeared  as  a 
figment  of  her  misguided  imagination,  but  rather  as 
a  real  thing  neither  patience  nor  courage  might  hope 
to  surmount.  If  he  could  have  flattered  himself  that 
Naida  was  depressed  also  in  spirit,  the  fact  might  have 
proved  both  comfort  and  inspiration,  but  to  his 
view  her  attitude  was  one  of  almost  total  indifference. 
One  day  he  deemed  her  but  an  idle  coquette ;  the 
next,  a  warm-hearted  woman,  doing  her  duty  bravely. 
Yet  through  it  all  her  power  over  him  never  slackened. 
Twice  he  walked  with  Miss  Spencer  as  far  as  the 
Herndon  house,  hopeful  that  that  vivacious  young  lady 

[282] 


THE     PARTING     HOUR 

might  chance  to  let  fall  some  unguarded  hint  of 
guidance.  But  Miss  Spencer  was  then  too  deeply 
immersed  in  her  own  affairs  of  the  heart  to  waste 
either  time  or  thought  upon  others. 

The  end  to  this  nervous  strain  came  in  the  form 
of  an  urgent  despatch  recalling  N  Troop  to  Fort 
Abraham  Lincoln  by  forced  marches.  The  com 
mander  felt  no  doubt  as  to  the  full  meaning  of  this 
message,  and  the  soldier  in  him  made  prompt  and 
joyful  response.  Little  Glcncaid  was  almost  out  of 
the  world  so  far  as  recent  news  was  concerned.  The 
military  telegraph,  however,  formed  a  connecting  link 
with  the  War  Department,  so  that  Brant  knew  some 
thing  of  the  terrible  condition  of  the  Northwest.  He 
had  thus  learned  of  the  consolidation  of  the  hostile 
savages,  incited  by  Sitting  Bull,  into  the  fastness  of 
the  Big  Horn  Range ;  he  was  aware  that  General 
Crook  was  already  advancing  northward  from  the 
Nebraska  line  ;  and  he  knew  it  was  part  of  the  plan  of 
operation  for  Custer  and  the  Seventh  Cavalry  to 
strike  directly  westward  across  the  Dakota  hills, 
Now  he  realized  that  he  was  to  be  a  part  of  this  chosen 
fighting  force,  and  his  heart  responded  to  the  sum 
mons  as  to  a  bugle-call  in  battle. 

Instantly  the  little  camp  was  astir,  the  men  feeling 
the  enthusiasm  of  their  officers.  With  preparations 
well  in  hand,  Brant's  thoughts  veered  once  again 
toward  Naida  —  he  could  not  leave  her,  perhaps  ride 
forth  to  death,  without  another  effort  to  learn  what 
was  this  impassable  object  between  them.  He  rode 
down  to  the  Herndon  house  with  grave  face  and  sober 

[283] 


BOB     HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

thought.  If  he  could  only  understand  this  girl ;  if 
he  could  only  once  look  into  her  heart,  and  know  the 
meaning  of  her  ever-changing  actions,  her  puzzling 
words !  He  felt  convinced  he  had  surprised  the 
reflection  of  love  within  her  eyes ;  but  soon  the  reflec 
tion  vanished.  The  end  was  ever  the  same —  he  only 
knew  he  loved  her. 

He  recalled  long  the  plainly  furnished  room  into 
which  Mrs.  Herndon  ushered  him  to  await  the  girl's 
appearance  —  the  formal  look  of  the  old-fashioned 
hair-cloth  furniture,  the  prim  striped  paper  on  the 
walls,  the  green  shades  at  the  windows,  the  clean  rag 
carpet  on  the  floor.  The  very  stiffness  chilled  him, 
left  him  ill  at  ease.  To  calm  his  spirit  he  walked  to 
a  window,  and  stood  staring  out  into  the  warm  sun 
light.  Then  he  heard  the  rustle  of  Naida's  skirt  and 
turned  to  meet  her.  She  was  pale  from  her  weeks  of 
nursing,  and  agitated  for  fear  of  what  this  unexpected 
call  might  portend.  Yet  to  his  thought  she  appeared 
calm,  her  manner  restrained.  Nor  could  anything  be 
kinder  than  her  first  greeting,  the  frankly  extended 
hand,  the  words  expressive  of  welcome. 

"  Mr.  Wynkoop  informed  me  a  few  minutes  ago 
that  you  had  at  last  received  your  orders  for  the 
north,"  she  said,  her  lips  slightly  trembling.  "  I  won-* 
dered  if  you  would  leave  without  a  word  of  farewell." 

He  bowed  low.  "  I  do  not  understand  how  you 
could  doubt,  for  I  have  shown  my  deep  interest  in  you 
even  from  the  first.  If  I  have  lately  seemed  to  avoid 
you,  it  has  only  been  because  I  believed  you  wished 


it  so." 


[284] 


THE      PARTING      HOUR 

A  slight  flush  tinged  the  pallor  of  her  cheeks, 
while  the  long  lashes  drooped  over  the  eyes,  conceal 
ing  their  secrets. 

"  Life  is  not  always  as  easy  to  live  aright  as  it 
appears  upon  the  surface,"  she  confessed.  "  I  am 
learning  that  I  cannot  always  do  just  as  I  should  like, 
but  must  content  myself  with  the  performance  of  duty. 
Shall  we  not  be  seated  ? " 

There  was  an  embarrassing  pause,  as  though  neither 
knew  how  to  get  through  the  interview. 

"  No  doubt  you  are  rejoiced  to  be  sent  on  active 
service  again/'  she  said,  at  last. 

"  Yes,  both  as  a  soldier  and  as  a  man,  Miss 
Naida.  I  am  glad  to  get  into  the  field  again  with  my 
regiment,  to  do  my  duty  under  the  flag,  and  I  am 
equally  rejoiced  to  have  something  occur  which  will 
tend  to  divert  my  thoughts.  I  had  not  intended  to 
say  anything  of  this  kind,  but  now  that  I  am  with 
you  I  simply  cannot  restrain  the  words.  This  past 
month  has  been,  I  believe,  the  hardest  I  have  ever 
been  compelled  to  live  through.  You  simply  mystify 
me,  so  that  I  alternately  hope  and  despair.  Your 
methods  are  cruel." 

"  Mine  ?  "  and  she  gazed  at  him  with  parted  lips. 
"  Lieutenant  Brant,  what  can  you  mean  ?  What  is  it 
I  have  done?" 

"  It  may  have  been  only  play  to  you,  and  so 
easily  forgotten,"  he  went  on,  bitterly.  "  But  that  is  a 
dangerous  game,  very  certain  to  hurt  some  one.  Miss 
Naida,  your  face,  your  eyes,  even  your  lips  almost 
continually  tell  me  one  thing ;  your  words  another, 

[285] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

I  know  not  which  to  trust.  I  never  meet  you  except 
to  go  away  baffled  and  bewildered." 

"You  wish  to  know  the  truth  ? " 

"Ay,  and  for  all  time  !  Are  you  false,  or  true  ? 
Coquette,  or  woman  ?  Do  you  simply  play  with 
hearts  for  idle  amusement,  or  is  there  some  true  pur 
pose  ruling  your  actions  ? " 

She  looked  directly  at  him,  her  hands  clasped,  her 
breath  almost  sobbing  between  the  parted  lips.  At 
first  she  could  not  speak.  "  Oh,  you  hurt  me  so,"  she 
faltered  at  last.  "  I  did  not  suppose  you  could  ever 
think  that.  I  —  I  did  not  mean  it ;  oh,  truly  I  did  not 
mean  it !  You  forget  how  young  I  am ;  how  very 
little  I  know  of  the  world  and  its  ways.  Perhaps  I 
have  not  even  realized  how  deeply  in  earnest  you 
were,  have  deceived  myself  into  believing  you  were 
merely  amusing  yourself  with  me.  Why,  indeed, 
should  I  think  otherwise  ?  How  could  I  venture  to 
believe  you  would  ever  really  care  in  that  way  for  such 
a  waif  as  I  ?  You  have  seen  other  women  in  that 
great  Eastern  world  of  which  I  have  only  read  —  re 
fined,  cultured,  princesses,  belonging  to  your  own  social 
circle, —  how  should  I  suppose  you  could  forget  them, 
and  give  your  heart  to  a  little  outcast,  a  girl  without  a 
name  or  a  home  ?  Rather  should  it  be  I  who  might 
remain  perplexed  and  bewildered." 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said,  with  simple  honesty.  "  I 
seek  you  for  my  wife." 

She  started  at  these  frankly  spoken  words,  her 
hands  partially  concealing  her  face,  her  form  trem 
bling.  "  Oh,  I  wish  you  had  n't  said  that !  It  is  not 

086] 


THE      PARTING      HOUR 

because  I  doubt  you  any  longer;  not  that  I  fail  to  ap 
preciate  all  you  offer  me.  But  it  is  so  hard  to  appear 
ungrateful,  to  give  nothing  in  return  for  so  vast  a  gift." 

"Then  it  is  true  that  you  do  not  love  me  ?" 

The  blood  flamed  suddenly  up  into  her  face,  but 
there  was  no  lowering  of  the  eyes,  no  shrinking  back. 
She  was  too  honest  to  play  the  coward  before  him. 

"  I  shall  not  attempt  to  deceive  you,"  she  said, 
with  a  slow  impressiveness  instantly  carrying  convic 
tion.  "  This  has  already  progressed  so  far  that  I  now 
owe  you  complete  frankness.  Donald  Brant,  now  and 
always,  living  or  dead,  married  or  single,  wherever  life 
may  take  us,  I  shall  love  you." 

Their  eyes  were  meeting,  but  she  held  up  her  hand 
to  restrain  him  from  the  one  step  forward. 

"  No,  no ;  I  have  confessed  the  truth ;  I  have 
opened  freely  to  you  the  great  secret  of  my  heart. 
With  it  you  must  be  content  to  leave  me.  There  is 
nothing  more  that  I  can  give  you,  absolutely  nothing. 
I  can  never  be  your  wife ;  I  hope,  for  your  sake  and 
mine,  that  we  never  meet  again." 

She  did  not  break  down,  or  hesitate  in  the  utterance 
of  these  words,  although  there  was  a  piteous  tremble 
on  her  lips,  a  pathetic  appeal  in  her  eyes.  Brant  stood 
like  a  statue,  his  face  grown  white.  He  did  not  in 
the  least  doubt  her  full  meaning  of  renunciation. 

"  You  will,  at  least,  tell  me  why  ? "  It  was  all 
that  would  come  to  his  dry  lips. 

She  sank  back  upon  the  sofa,  as  though  the 
strength  had  suddenly  deserted  her  body,  her  eyes 
shaded  by  an  uplifted  hand. 

[287] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

"  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  have  no  words,  no  courage. 
You  will  learn  some  day  from  others,  and  be  thankful 
that  I  loved  you  well  enough  to  resist  temptation. 
But  the  reason  cannot  come  to  you  from  my  lips." 

He  leaned  forward,  half  kneeling  at  her  feet,  and 
she  permitted  him  to  clasp  her  hand  within  both  his 
own.  "Tell  me,  at  least,  this  —  is  it  some  one  else? 
Is  it  Hampton  ?  " 

She  smiled  at  him  through  a  mist  of  tears,  a  smile 
the  sad  sweetness  of  which  he  would  never  forget. 
"  In  the  sense  you  mean,  no.  No  living  man  stands 
between  us,  not  even  Bob  Hampton." 

"  Does  he  know  why  this  cannot  be  ? " 

"  He  does  know,  but  I  doubt  if  he  will  ever  reveal 
his  knowledge;  certainly  not  to  you.  He  has  not 
told  me  all,  even  in  the  hour  when  he  thought  himself 
dying.  I  am  convinced  of  that.  It  is  not  because  he 
dislikes  you,  Lieutenant  Brant,  but  because  he  knew 
his  partial  revealment  of  the  truth  was  a  duty  he  owed 
us  both." 

There  was  a  long,  painful  pause  between  them, 
during  which  neither  ventured  to  look  directly  at  the 
other. 

"You  leave  me  so  completely  in  the  dark,"  he 
said,  finally ;  "  is  there  no  possibility  that  this  myste 
rious  obstacle  can  ever  be  removed  ? " 

"None.  It  is  beyond  earthly  power  —  there  lies 
between  us  the  shadow  of  a  dead  man." 

He  stared  at  her  as  if  doubting  her  sanity. 

"A  dead  man!     Not  Gillis?" 

"  No,  it  is  not  Gillis.  I  have  told  you  this  much 
[a88] 


THE      PARTING      HOUR 

so  that  you  might  comprehend  how  impossible  it  is 
for  us  to  change  our  fate.  It  is  irrevocably  fixed. 
Please  do  not  question  me  any  more ;  cannot  you  see 
how  I  am  suffering?  I  beseech  your  pity;  I  beg 
you  not  to  prolong  this  useless  interview.  I  cannot 
bear  it ! " 

Brant  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood  looking  down 
upon  her  bowed  head,  her  slender  figure  shaken  by 
sobs.  Whatever  it  might  prove  to  be,  this  mysterious 
shadow  of  a  dead  man,  there  could  be  no  doubting 
what  it  now  meant  to  her.  His  eyes  were  filled  with 
a  love  unutterable. 

"  Naida,  as  you  have  asked  it,  I  will  go ;  but  I  go 
better,  stronger,  because  I  have  heard  your  lips  say 
you  love  me.  I  am  going  now,  my  sweetheart,  but  if 
I  live,  I  shall  come  again.  I  know  nothing  of  what 
you  mean  about  a  dead  man  being  between  us,  but  I 
shall  know  when  I  come  back,  for,  dead  or  alive,  no 
man  shall  remain  between  me  and  the  girl  I  love." 

"This  —  this  is  different,"  she  sobbed,  "  different ; 
it  is  beyond  your  power." 

"  I  shall  never  believe  so  until  I  have  faced  it  for 
myself,  nor  will  I  even  say  good-bye,  for,  under  God, 
I  am  coming  back  to  you." 

He  turned  slowly,  and  walked  away.  As  his  hand 
touched  the  latch  of  the  door  he  paused  and  looked 
longingly  back. 

"Naida." 

She  glanced  up  at  him. 
"You  kissed  me  once;  will  you  again?" 

She   rose  silently  and  crossed   over  to  him,  her 
[289] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

hands  held  out,  her  eyes  uplifted  to  his  own.  Neither 
spoke  as  he  drew  her  gently  to  him,  and  their  lips 
met. 

"  Say  it  once  more,  sweetheart  ?  " 

"  Donald,  I  love  you." 

A  moment  they  stood  thus  face  to  face,  reading 
the  great  lesson  of  eternity  within  the  depths  of 
each  other's  eyes.  Then  slowly,  gently,  she  released 
herself  from  the  clasp  of  his  strong  arms. 

"You  believe  in  me  now?  You  do  not  go  away 
blaming  me?"  she  questioned,  with  quivering  lips. 

"  There  is  no  blame,  for  you  are  doing  what  you 
think  right  But  I  am  coming  back,  Naida,  little 
woman  ;  coming  back  to  love  and  you." 

An  hour  later  N  Troop  trotted  across  the  rude 
bridge,  and  circled  the  bluff,  on  its  way  toward  the 
wide  plains.  Brant,  riding  ahead  of  his  men,  caught 
a  glimpse  of  something  white  fluttering  from  an 
open  window  of  the  yellow  house  fronting  the  road. 
Instantly  he  whipped  off  his  campaign  hat,  and  bow 
ing  to  the  saddle  pommel,  rode  bareheaded  out  of 
sight.  And  from  behind  the  curtain  Naida  watched  the 
last  horseman  round  the  bluff  angle,  riding  cheerfully 
away  to  hardship,  danger,  and  death,  her  eyes  dry 
and  despairing,  her  heart  scarcely  beating.  Then  she 
crept  across  the  narrow  room,  and  buried  her  face  in 
the  coverlet  of  the  bed. 


[290] 


PART  III 
ON  THE  LITTLE  BIG  HORN 


PART  III 
ON  THE  LITTLE  BIG  HORN 

CHAPTER  I 

MR.  HAMPTON  RESOLVES 

MR.    BOB    HAMPTON    stood  in  the   bright 
sunshine   on   the  steps  of  the   hotel,  his  ap 
preciative  gaze  wandering  up  the  long,  dusty, 
unoccupied  street,  and  finally  rising  to  the  sweet  face 
of  the  young  girl  who  occupied  the  step  above.     As 
their  eyes  met  both  smiled  as  if  they  understood  each 
other.     Except  for  being  somewhat  pale,  the  result  of 
long,  inactive  weeks  passed  indoors,  Mr.  Hampton's 
appearance  was  that  of  perfect  health,  while  the  ex 
pression  of  his  face  evidenced  the  joy  of  living. 

"  There  is  nothing  quite  equal  to  feeling  well,  little 
girl,"  he  said,  genially,  patting  her  hand  where  it 
rested  on  the  railing, "  and  I  really  believe  I  am  in  as 
fine  fettle  now  as  I  ever  have  been.  Do  you  know, 
I  believe  I'm  perfectly  fit  to  undertake  that  little 
detective  operation  casually  mentioned  to  you  a  few 
days  ago.  It 's  got  to  be  done,  and  the  sooner  I  get 
at  it  the  easier  I'll  feel.  Fact  is,  I  put  in  a  large 
portion  of  the  night  thinking  out  my  plans." 

"  I  wish  you  would  give  it  up  all  together,  Bob," 
she  said,  anxiously.  "  I  shall  be  so  dull  and  lonely 
here  while  you  are  gone." 

[293] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"  I  reckon  you  will,  for  a  fact,  as  it 's  my  private 
impression  that  lovely  Miss  Spencer  does  n't  exert 
herself  over  much  to  be  entertaining  unless  there  hap 
pens  to  be  a  man  in  sight.  Great  guns  !  how  she  did 
fling  language  the  last  time  she  blew  in  to  see  me ! 
But,  Naida,  it  is  n't  likely  this  little  affair  will  require 
very  long,  and  things  are  lots  happier  between  us  since 
my  late  shooting  scrape.  For  one  thing,  you  and  I 
understand  each  other  better;  then  Mrs.  Herndon 
has  been  quite  decently  civil.  When  Fall  comes  I 
mean  to  take  you  East  and  put  you  in  some  good 
finishing  school.  Don't  care  quite  as  much  about  it 
as  you  did,  do  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  think  I  do,  Bob."  She  strove  bravely 
to  express  enthusiasm.  "The  trouble  is,  I  am  so 
worried  over  your  going  off  alone  hunting  after  that 


man." 


He  laughed,  his  eyes  searching  her  face  for  the 
truth.  "Well,  little  girl,  he  won't  exactly  be  the 
first  I  Ve  had  call  to  go  after.  Besides,  this  is  a  par 
ticular  case,  and  appeals  to  me  in  a  sort  of  personal 
way.  If  you  only  knew  it,  you're  about  as  deeply 
concerned  in  the  result  as  I  am,  and  as  for  me,  I  can 
never  rest  easy  again  until  the  matter  is  over  with." 

"  It 's  that  awful  Murphy,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"He's  the  one  I'm  starting  after  first,  and  one 
.sight  at  his  right  hand  will  decide  whether  he  is  to 
be  the  last  as  well." 

"  I  never  supposed  you  would  seek  revenge,  like  a 
savage,"  she  remarked,  quietly.  "You  nevei  used  to 
be  that  way." 

[294] 


MR.      HAMPTON      RESOLVES 

"  Good  Lord,  Naida,  do  you  think  I  'm  low  down 
enough  to  go  out  hunting  that  poor  cuss  merely  to 
get  even  with  him  for  trying  to  stick  me  with  a  knife? 
Why,  there  are  twenty  others  who  have  done  as  much, 
and  we  have  been  the  best  of  friends  afterwards.  Oh, 
no,  lassie,  it  means  more  than  that,  and  harks  back 
many  a  long  year.  I  told  you  I  saw  a  mark  on  his 
hand  I  would  never  forget —  but  I  saw  that  mark  first 
fifteen  years  ago.  I'm  not  taking  my  life  in  my 
hand  to  revenge  the  killing  of  Slavin,  or  in  any  mem 
ory  of  that  little  misunderstanding  between  the  citi 
zens  of  Glencaid  and  myself.  I  should  say  not.  I 
have  been  slashed  at  and  shot  at  somewhat  pro 
miscuously  during  the  last  five  years,  but  I  never 
permitted  such  little  affairs  to  interfere  with  either 
business,  pleasure,  or  friendship.  If  this  fellow 
Murphy,  or  whoever  the  man  I  am  after  may  prove 
to  be,  had  contented  himself  with  endeavoring  play 
fully  to  carve  me,  the  account  would  be  considered 
closed.  But  this  is  a  duty  I  owe  a  friend,  a  dead 
friend,  to  run  to  earth  this  murderer.  Do  you 
understand  now?  The  fellow  who  did  that  shoot 
ing  up  at  Bethune  fifteen  years  ago  had  the  same 
sort  of  a  mark  on  his  right  hand  as  this  one  who 
killed  Slavin.  That's  why  I  'm  after  him,  and  when 
I  catch  up  he  '11  either  squeal  or  die.  He  won't  be 
very  likely  to  look  on  the  matter  as  a  joke." 

"But  how  do  you  know?" 

"  I  never  told  you  the  whole  story,  and  I  don't 
mean  to  now  until  I  come  back,  and  can  make  every 
thing  perfectly  clear.  It  would  n't  do  you  any  good 

l>95] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

'the  way  things  stand  now,  and  would  only  make  you 
uneasy .  But  if  you  do  any  praying  over  it,  my  girl, 
pray  good  and  hard  that  I  may  discover  some  means 
for  making  that  fellow  squeal." 

She  made  no  response.  He  had  told  her  so  little, 
that  it  left  her  blindly  groping,  yet  fearful  to  ask  for 
more.  She  stood  gazing  thoughtfully  past  him. 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  lately,  Bob,  about 
the  Seventh  ? "  she  asked,  finally.  "  Since  —  since 
N  Troop  left  here  ? " 

He  answered  with  well-simulated  carelessness. 
"  No ;  but  it  is  most  likely  they  are  well  into  the  game 
by  this  time.  It 's  bound  to  prove  a  hard  campaign, 
to  judge  from  all  visible  indications,  and  the  trouble 
has  been  hatching  long  enough  to  get  all  the  hostiles 
into  a  bunch.  I  know  most  of  them,  and  they  are 
a  bad  lot  of  savages.  Crook's  column,  I  have  just 
heard,  was  overwhelmingly  attacked  on  the  Rosebud, 
and  forced  to  fall  back.  That  leaves  the  Seventh  to 
take  the  brunt  of  it,  and  there  is  going  to  be  hell 
up  north  presently,  or  I  Ve  forgotten  all  I  ever  knew 
about  Indians.  Sitting  Bull  is  the  arch-devil  for  a 
plot,  and  he  has  found  able  assistants  to  lead  the  fight 
ing.  I  only  wish  it  were  my  luck  to  be  in  it.  But 
come,  little  girl,  as  I  said,  I  'in  quite  likely  to  be  off 
before  night,  provided  I  am  fortunate  enough  to  strike 
a  fresh  trail.  Under  such  conditions  you  won't  mind 
my  kissing  you  out  here,  will  you  ?  " 

She  held  up  her  lips  and  he  touched  them  softly 
with  his  own.  Her  eyes  were  tear-dimmed.  "Oh,  Bob, 
I  hate  so  to  let  you  go,"  she  sobbed,  clinging  to  him. 

[296] 


MR.      HAMPTON      RESOLVES 

"  No  one  could  have  been  more  to  me  than  you  have 
been,  and  you  are  all  I  have  left  in  the  world.  Every 
thing  I  care  for  goes  away  from  me.  Life  is  so  hard, 
so  hard  ! " 

"Yes,  little  girl,  I  know,"  and  the  man  stroked 
her  hair  tenderly,  his  own  voice  faltering.  "It's  all 
hard ;  I  learned  that  sad  lesson  long  ago,  but  I  Ve 
tried  to  make  it  a  little  bit  easier  for  you  since  we  first 
came  together.  Still,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  possibly 
help  this.  I  Ve  been  hunting  after  that  fellow  a  long 
while  now,  a  matter  of  fifteen  years  over  a  mighty  dim 
trail,  and  it  would  be  a  mortal  sin  to  permit  him  to 
get  away  scot-free.  Besides,  if  this  affair  only  manages 
to  turn  out  right,  I  can  promise  to  make  you  the 
happiest  girl  in  America.  But,  Naida,  dear,  don't 
cling  to  me  so ;  it  is  not  at  all  like  you  to  break  down 
in  this  fashion,"  and  he  gently  unclasped  her  hands, 
holding  her  away  from  him,  while  he  continued  to 
gaze  hungrily  into  her  troubled  face.  "It  only  weak 
ens  me  at  a  time  when  I  require  all  my  strength  of 
will." 

"  Sometimes  I  feel  just  like  a  coward,  Bob.  It's  the 
woman  of  it;  yet  truly  I  wish  to  do  whatever  you  be 
lieve  to  be  best.  But,  Bob,  I  need  you  so  much,  and 
you  will  come  back,  won't  you  ?  I  shall  be  so  lonely 
here,  for  —  for  you  are  truly  all  I  have  in  the  world." 

With  one  quick,  impulsive  motion  he  pressed  her 
to  him,  passionately  kissing  the  tears  from  her  lowered 
lashes,  unable  longer  to  conceal  the  tremor  that  shook 
his  own  voice.  "  Never,  never  doubt  it,  lassie.  It  will 
not  take  me  long,  and  if  I  live  I  come  straight  back." 

O97] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

He  watched  her  slender,  white-robed  figure  as  it 
passed  slowly  down  the  deserted  street.  Once  only 
she  paused,  and  waved  back  to  him,  and  he  returned 
instant  response,  although  scarcely  realizing  the  act. 

"  Poor  little  lonely  girl !  perhaps  I  ought  to  have 
told  her  the  whole  infernal  story,  but  I  simply  haven't 
got  the  nerve,  the  way  it  reads  now.  If  I  can  only  get 
it  straightened  out,  it  '11  be  different." 

Mechanically  he  thrust  an  unlighted  cigar  between 
his  teeth,  and  descended  the  steps,  to  all  outward  ap 
pearance  the  same  reckless,  audacious  Hampton  as  of 
old.  Mrs.  Guffy  smiled  happily  from  an  open  win 
dow  as  she  observed  the  square  set  of  his  shoulders, 
the  easy,  devil-may-care  smile  upon  his  lips. 

The  military  telegraph  occupied  one-half  of  the 
small  tent  next  the  Miners'  Retreat,  and  the  youthful 
operator  instantly  recognized  his  debonair  visitor. 

"Well,  Billy,"  was  Hampton's  friendly  greeting, 
"are  they  keeping  you  fairly  busy  with  'wars  and 
rumors  of  wars'  these  days  ?" 

"  Nuthin'  doin',  just  now,"  was  the  cheerful  reply. 
"  Everything  goin'  ter  Cheyenne.  The  Injuns  are 
gittin'  themselves  bottled  up  in  the  Big  Horn  country." 

"  Oh,  that 's  it  ?  Then  maybe  you  might  manage 
to  rush  a  message  through  for  me  to  Fort  A.  Lincoln, 
without  discommoding  Uncle  Sam  ? "  and  Hampton 
placed  a  coin  upon  the  rough  table. 

"  Sure;  write  it  out." 

"  Here  it  is ;  now  get  it  off  early,  my  lad,  and  bring 
the  answer  to  me  over  at  the  hotel.  There  '11  be 
another  yellow  boy  waiting  when  you  come." 


MR.      HAMPTON      RESOLVES 

The  reply  arrived  some  two  hours  later. 

"Four  A.  LINCOLN,  June   17,   1876. 

"HAMPTON,  Glencaid: 

"Seventh  gone  west ;  probably  Yellowstone.  Brant 
with  them.  Murphy,  government  scout,  at  Cheyenne 
waiting  orders.  "BiTTON,  Commanding." 

He  crushed  the  paper  in  his  hand,  thinking  — 
thinking  of  the  past,  the  present,  the  future.  He  had 
borne  much  in  these  last  years,  much  misrepresenta 
tion,  much  loneliness  of  soul.  He  had  borne  these 
patiently,  smiling  into  the  mocking  eyes  of  Fate. 
Through  it  all  —  the  loss  of  friends,  of  profession,  of 
ambition,  of  love,  of  home  —  he  had  never  wholly 
lost  hold  of  a  sustaining  hope,  and  now  it  would 
seem  that  this  long-abiding  faith  was  at  last  to  be 
rewarded.  Yet  he  realized,  as  he  fronted  the  facts, 
how  very  little  he  really  had  to  build  upon, — the  frag 
mentary  declaration  of  Slavin,  wrung  from  him  in  a 
moment  of  terror;  an  idle  boast  made  to  Brant  by 
the  surprised  scout;  a  second's  glimpse  at  a  scarred 
hand,  —  little  enough,  indeed,  yet  by  far  the  most 
clearly  marked  trail  he  had  ever  struck  in  all  his  vain 
endeavor  to  pierce  the  mystery  which  had  so  utterly 
ruined  his  life.  To  run  this  Murphy  to  cover  re 
mained  his  final  hope  for  retrieving  those  dead,  dark 
years.  Ay,  and  there  was  Naida  !  Her  future,  scarcely 
less  than  his  own,  hung  trembling  in  the  balance. 
The  sudden  flashing  of  that  name  into  his  brain  was 
like  an  electric  shock.  He  cursed  his  inactivity. 
Great  God !  had  he  become  a  child  again,  to  tremble 

[299] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

before  imagined  evil,  a  mere  hobgoblin  of  the  mind? 
He  had  already  wasted  time  enough;  now  he  must 
wring  from  the  lips  of  that  misshapen  savage  the  last 
vestige  of  his  secret. 

The  animal  within  him  sprang  to  fierce  life.  God! 
he  would  prove  as  wary,  as  cunning,  as  relentless  as 
ever  was  Indian  on  the  trail.  Murphy  would  never 
suspect  at  this  late  day  that  he  was  being  tracked. 
That  was  well.  Tireless,  fearless,  half  savage  as  the 
scout  undoubtedly  was,  one  fully  his  equal  was  now 
at  his  heels,  actuated  by  grim,  relentless  purpose. 
Hampton  moved  rapidly  in  preparation.  He  dressed 
for  the  road,  for  hard,  exacting  service,  buckling  his 
loaded  cartridge-belt  outside  his  rough  coat,  and  testing 
his  revolvers  with  unusual  care.  He  spoke  a  few 
parting  words  of  instruction  to  Mrs.  GufFy,  and  went 
quietly  out.  Ten  minutes  later  he  was  in  the  saddle, 
galloping  down  the  dusty  stage  road  toward  Cheyenne. 


[300] 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  TRAIL  OF  SILENT  MURPHY 

THE  young  infantryman  who  had  been  detailed 
for  the  important  service  of  telegraph  operator, 
sat  in  the  Cheyenne  office,  his  feet  on  the  rude 
table  his  face  buried  behind  a  newspaper.  He  had 
passed  through  two  eventful  weeks  of  unremitting 
service,  being  on  duty  both  night  and  day,  and  now, 
the  final  despatches  forwarded,  he  felt  entitled  to  enjoy 
a  period  of  well-earned  repose. 

"  Could  you  inform  me  where  I  might  find 
Silent  Murphy,  a  government  scout?  " 

The  voice  had  the  unmistakable  ring  of  mili 
tary  authority,  and  the  soldier  operator  instinctively 
dropped  his  feet  to  the  floor. 

"Well,  my  lad,  you  are  not  dumb,  are  you?" 

The  telegrapher's  momentary  hesitation  vanished; 
his  ambition  to  become  a  martyr  to  the  strict  laws  of 
service  secrecy  was  not  sufficiently  strong  to  cause  him 
to  take  the  doubtful  chances  of  a  lie.  "  He  was  here, 
but  has  gone." 

"Where?" 

"The  devil  knows.  He  rode  north,  carrying 
despatches  for  Custer." 

"When?" 

"  Oh,  three  or  four  hours  ago." 

[301] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Hampton  swore  softly  but  fervently,  behind  his 
clinched  teeth. 

"  Where  is  Custer  ?  " 

"  Don't  know  exactly.  Supposed  to  be  with 
Terry  and  Gibbons,  somewhere  near  the  mouth  of 
the  Powder,  although  he  may  have  left  there  by  this 
time,  moving  down  the  Yellowstone.  That  was  the 
plan  mapped  out.  Murphy's  orders  were  to  intercept 
his  column  somewhere  between  the  Rosebud  and  the 
Big  Horn,  and  I  figure  there  is  about  one  chance  out 
of  a  hundred  that  the  Indians  let  him  get  that  far 
alive.  No  other  scout  along  this  border  would  take 
such  a  detail.  I  know,  for  there  were  two  here  who 
failed  to  make  good  when  the  job  was  thrown  at 
them  — just  naturally  faded  away,  "  and  the  soldier's 
eyes  sparkled.  "  But  that  old  devil  of  a  Murphy  just 
enjoys  such  a  trip.  He  started  off  as  happy  as  ever 
I  see  him." 

"  How  far  will  he  hare  to  ride  ?  " 

"  Oh,  'bout  three  hundred  miles  as  the  crow  flies, 
a  little  west  of  north,  and  the  'better  part  of  the  dis 
tance,  they  tell  me,  it 's  almighty  rough  country  for 
night  work.  But  then  Murphy,  he  knows  the  way 
all  right." 

Hampton  turned  toward  the  door,  feeling  fairly 
sick  from  disappointment.  The  operator  stood 
regarding  him  curiously,  a  question  on  his  lips. 

"Sorry  you  didn't  come  along  a  little  earlier," 
he  said,  genially.  "  Do  you  know  Murphy  ?  " 

"  I  'm  not  quite  certain.  Did  you  happen  to  notice 
a  peculiar  black  scar  on  the  back  of  his  right  hand  ? " 

[302] 


TRAIL     OF     SILENT     MURPHY 

"  Sure  ;  looks  like  the  half  of  a  pear.  He  said  it 
was  powder  under  the  skin." 

A  new  look  of  reviving  determination  swept  into 
Hampton's  gloomy  eyes  —  beyond  doubt  this  must  be 
his  man. 

"  How  many  horses  did  he  have  ?  " 

"Two." 

"  Did  you  overhear  him  say  anything  definite 
about  his  plans  for  the  trip  ?  " 

"  What,  him  ?  He  never  talks,  that  fellow.  He 
can't  do  nothing  but  sputter  if  he  tries.  But  I  wrote 
out  his  orders,  and  they  give  him  to  the  twenty-fifth 
to  make  the  Big  Horn.  That 's  maybe  something 
like  fifty  miles  a  day,  and  he  's  most  likely  to  keep 
his  horses  fresh  just  as  long  as  possible,  so  as  to  be 
good  for  the  last  spurt  through  the  hostile  country. 
That 's  how  I  figure  it,  and  I  know  something  about 
scouting.  You  was  n't  planning  to  strike  out  after 
him,  was  you  ? " 

"  I  might  risk  it  if  I  only  thought  I  could  over 
take  him  within  two  days  ;  my  business  is  of  some 
importance." 

"  Well,  stranger,  I  should  reckon  you  might  do 
that  with  a  dog-gone  good  outfit.  Murphy  's  sure  to 
take  things  pretty  easy  to-day,  and  he 's  almost  certain 
to  follow  the  old  mining  trail  as  far  as  the  ford  over 
the  Belle  Fourche,  and  that 's  plain  enough  to  travel. 
Beyond  that  point  the  devil  only  knows  where  he  will 
go,  for  then  is  when  his  hard  ridin'  begins." 

The  moment  the  operator  mentioned  that  odd 
scar  on  Murphy's  hand,  every  vestige  of  hesitation 

[303] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

vanished.  Beyond  any  possibility  of  doubt  he  was 
on  the  right  scent  this  time.  Murphy  was  riding 
north  upon  a  mission  as  desperate  as  ever  man  was 
called  upon  to  perform.  The  chance  of  his  coming 
forth  alive  from  that  Indian-haunted  land  was,  as  the 
operator  truthfully  said,  barely  one  out  of  a  hundred. 
Hampton  thought  of  this.  He  durst  not  venture  all 
he  was  so  earnestly  striving  after  —  love,  reputation, 
honor  —  to  the  chance  of  a  stray  Sioux  bullet.  No! 
and  he  remembered  Naida  again,  her  dark,  pleading 
eyes  searching  his  face.  To  the  end,  to  the  death  if 
need  were,  he  would  follow ! 

The  memory  of  his  old  plains  craft  would  not 
permit  any  neglect  of  the  few  necessaries  for  the  trip. 
He  bought  without  haggling  over  prices,  but  insisted 
on  the  best.  So  it  was  four  in  the  afternoon  when  he 
finally  struck  into  the  trail  leading  northward.  This 
proved  at  first  a  broad,  plainly  marked  path,  across 
the  alkali  plain.  He  rode  a  mettlesome,  half-broken 
bronco,  a  wicked-eyed  brute,  which  required  to  be 
conquered  twice  within  the  first  hour  of  travel ;  a 
second  and  more  quiet  animal  trailed  behind  at  the 
end  of  a  lariat,  bearing  the  necessary  equipment. 
Hampton  forced  the  two  into  a  rapid  lope,  striving 
to  make  the  most  possible  out  of  the  narrow  margin 
of  daylight  remaining. 

He  had,  by  persistent  questioning,  acquired  con 
siderable  information,  during  that  busy  hour  spent  in 
Cheyenne,  regarding  the  untrackcd  regions  lying  be 
fore  him,  as  well  as  the  character  and  disposition  of 
the  man  he  pursued.  Both  by  instinct  and  training  he 

[304] 


TRAIL      OF      SILENT      MURPHY 

was  able  to  comprehend  those  brief  hints  that  must 
prove  of  vast  benefit  in  the  pathless  wilderness.  But 
the  time  had  not  yet  arrived  for  him  to  dwell  on  such 
matters.  His  thoughts  were  concentrated  on  Murphy. 
He  knew  that  the  fellow  was  a  stubborn,  silent,  sullen 
savage,  devoid  of  physical  fear,  yet  cunning,  wary, 
malignant,  and  treacherous.  That  was  what  they  said 
of  him  back  in  Cheyenne.  What,  then,  would  ever 
induce  such  a  man  to  open  his  mouth  in  confession  of 
a  long-hidden  crime  P  To  be  sure,  he  might  easily  kill 
the  fellow,  but  he  would  probably  die,  like  a  wild 
beast,  without  uttering  a  word. 

There  was  one  chance,  a  faint  hope,  that  behind 
his  gruff,  uncouth  exterior  this  Murphy  possessed  a 
conscience  not  altogether  dead.  Over  some  natures, 
and  not  infrequently  to  those  which  seem  outwardly 
the  coarsest,  superstition  wields  a  power  the  normal 
mind  can  scarcely  comprehend.  Murphy  might  be 
spiritually  as  cringing  a  coward  as  he  was  physically  a 
fearless  desperado.  Hampton  had  known  such  cases 
before;  he  had  seen  men  laugh  scornfully  before  the 
muzzle  of  a  levelled  gun,  and  yet  tremble  when 
pointed  at  by  the  finger  of  accusation.  He  had  lived 
sufficiently  long  on  the  frontier  to  know  that  men  may 
become  inured  to  that  special  form  of  danger  to  which 
they  have  grown  accustomed  through  repetition,  and 
yet  fail  to  front  the  unknown  and  mysterious.  Per 
haps  here  might  be  discovered  Murphy's  weak  point. 
Without  doubt  the  man  was  guilty  of  crime ;  that  its 
memory  continued  to  haunt  him  was  rendered  evident 
by  his  hiding  in  Glencaid,  and  by  his  desperate 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

attempt  to  kill  Hampton.  That  knife-thrust  must 
have  been  given  with  the  hope  of  thus  stopping 
further  investigation ;  it  alone  was  sufficient  proof  that 
Murphy's  soul  was  haunted  by  fear. 

"  Conscience  doth  make  cowards  of  us  all." 
These  familiar  words  floated  in  Hampton's  mem 
ory,  seeming  to  attune  themselves  to  the  steady 
gallop  of  his  horse.  They  appealed  to  him  as  a  direct 
message  of  guidance.  The  night  was  already  dark, 
but  stars  were  gleaming  brilliantly  overhead,  and  the 
trail  remained  easily  traceable.  It  became  terribly 
lonely  on  that  wilderness  stretching  away  for  unknown 
leagues  in  every  direction,  yet  Hampton  scarcely 
noted  this,  so  watchful  was  he  lest  he  miss  the  trail. 
To  his  judgment,  Murphy  would  not  be  likely  to  ride 
during  the  night  until  after  he  had  crossed  the 
Fourche.  There  was  no  reason  to  suspect  that  there 
were  any  hostile  Indians  south  of  that  stream,  and 
probably  therefore  the  old  scout  would  endeavor  to 
conserve  his  own  strength  and  that  of  his  horses,  for 
the  more  perilous  travel  beyond.  Hampton  hastened 
on,  his  eyes  peering  anxiously  ahead  into  the  steadily 
increasing  gloom. 

About  midnight,  the  trail  becoming  obscure,  the 
rider  made  camp,  confident  he  must  have  already 
gained  heavily  on  the  man  he  pursued.  He  lariated 
his  horses,  and  flinging  himself  down  on  some  soft 
turf,  almost  immediately  dropped  asleep.  He  was  up 
again  before  daylight,  and,  after  a  hasty  meal,  pressed 
on.  The  nature  of  the  country  had  changed  consid 
erably,  becoming  more  broken,  the  view  circumscribed 

[306] 


TRAIL      OF      SILENT      MURPHY 

by  towering  cliffs  and  deep  ravines.  Hampton  swung 
forward  his  field-glasses,  and,  from  the  summit  of 
every  eminence,  studied  the  topography  of  the  country 
lying  beyond.  He  must  see  before  being  seen,  and 
he  believed  he  could  not  now  be  many  miles  in  the 
rear  of  Murphy. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  reined  up  his  horse  and 
gazed  forward  into  a  broad  valley,  bounded  with 
precipitous  bluffs.  The  trail,  now  scarcely  perceptible, 
led  directly  down,  winding  about  like  some  huge 
snake,  across  the  lower  level,  toward  where  a  con 
siderable  stream  of  water  shone  silvery  in  the  sun, 
half  concealed  behind  a  fringe  of  willows.  Beyond 
doubt  this  was  the  Belle  Fourche.  And  yonder,  close 
in  against  those  distant  willows,  some  black  dots  were 
moving.  Hampton  glued  his  anxious  eyes  to  the 
glass.  The  levelled  tubes  clearly  revealed  a  man  on 
horseback,  leading  another  horse.  The  animals  were 
walking.  There  could  be  little  doubt  that  this  was 
Silent  Murphy. 

Hampton  lariated  his  tired  horses  behind  the 
bluff,  and  returned  to  the  summit,  lying  flat  upon  the 
ground,  with  the  field-glass  at  his  eyes.  The  distant 
figures  passed  slowly  forward  into  the  midst  of  the 
willows,  and  for  half  an  hour  the  patient  watcher 
scanned  the  surface  of  the  stream  beyond,  but  there 
was  no  sign  of  attempted  passage.  The  sun  sank 
lower,  and  finally  disappeared  behind  those  desolate 
ridges  to  the  westward.  Hampton's  knowledge  of 
plains  craft  rendered  Murphy's  actions  sufficiently  clear. 
This  was  the  Fourche;  beyond  those  waters  lay  the 

[307] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

terrible  peril  of  Indian  raiders.  Further  advance  must 
be  made  by  swift,  secret  night  riding,  and  never- 
ceasing  vigilance.  This  was  what  Murphy  had  been 
saving  himself  and  his  horses  for.  Beyond  conjecture, 
he  was  resting  now  within  the  shadows  of  those  wil 
lows,  studying  the  opposite  shore  and  making  ready 
for  the  dash  northward.  Hampton  believed  he  would 
linger  thus  for  some  time  after  dark,  to  see  if  Indian 
fires  would  afford  any  guidance.  Confident  of  this, 
he  passed  back  to  his  horses,  rubbed  them  down  with 
grass,  and  then  ate  his  lonely  supper,  not  venturing  to 
light  a  fire,  certain  that  Murphy's  eyes  were  scanning 
every  inch  of  sky-line. 

Darkness  came  rapidly,  while  Hampton  sat  plan 
ning  again  the  details  of  his  night's  work.  The  man's 
spirits  became  depressed  by  the  gloom  and  the  silence. 
Evil  fancies  haunted  his  brain.  His  mind  dwelt  upon 
the  past,  upon  that  wrong  which  had  wrecked  his  life, 
upon  the  young  girl  he  had  left  praying  for  his  safe 
return,  upon  that  miserable  creature  skulking  yonder 
in  the  black  night.  Hampton  could  not  remember 
when  he  had  ever  performed  such  an  act  before,  nor 
could  he  have  explained  why  he  did  so  then,  yet  he 
prayed  —  prayed  for  the  far-off  Naida,  and  for  personal 
guidance  in  the  stern  work  lying  before  him.  And 
when  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  groped  his  way  to  the 
horses,  there  remained  no  spirit  of  vengeance  in  his 
heart,  no  hatred,  merely  a  cool  resolve  to  succeed  in 
his  strange  quest.  So,  the  two  animals  trailing  cau 
tiously  behind,  he  felt  his  slow  way  on  foot  down  the 
steep  bluff,  into  the  denser  blackness  of  the  valley. 

[308] 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  HAUNTING  OF  A  CRIME 

MURPHY  rested  on  his  back  in  the  midst  of  a 
thicket  of  willows,  wide  awake,  yet  not  quite 
ready  to  ford  the  Fourche  and  plunge  into 
the  dense  shadows  shrouding  the  northern  shore. 
Crouched  behind  a  log,  he  had  so  far  yielded  unto 
temptation  as  to  light  his  pipe. 

Murphy  had  been  amid  just  such  unpleasant 
environments  many  times  before,  and  the  experience 
had  grown  somewhat  prosaic.  He  realized  fully  the 
imminent  peril  haunting  the  next  two  hundred  miles, 
but  such  danger  was  not  wholly  unwelcome  to  his 
peculiar  temperament;  rather  it  was  an  incentive  to 
him,  and,  without  a  doubt,  he  would  manage  to  pull 
through  somehow,  as  he  had  done  a  hundred  times 
before.  Even  Indian-scouting  degenerates  into  a 
commonplace  at  last.  So  Murphy  puffed  contentedly 
at  his  old  pipe.  Whatever  may  have  been  his  thoughts, 
they  did  not  burst  through  his  taciturnity,  and  he  re 
clined  there  motionless,  no  sound  breaking  the  silence, 
save  the  rippling  waters  of  the  Fourche,  and  the 
occasional  stamping  of  his  horses  as  they  cropped  the 
succulent  valley  grass. 

But  suddenly  there  was  the  faint  crackle  of  a 
branch  to  his  left,  and  one  hand  instantly  closed  over 
his  pipe  bowl,  the  other  grasping  the  heavy  revolver 

[309] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

at  his  hip.  Crouching  like  a  startled  tiger,  with  not 
a  muscle  moving,  he  peered  anxiously  into  the  dark 
ness,  his  arm  half  extended,  scarcely  venturing  to 
breathe.  There  came  a  plain,  undisguised  rustling  in 
the  grass, —  some  prowling  coyote,  probably ;  then  his 
tense  muscles  immediately  relaxed,  and  he  cursed 
himself  for  being  so  startled,  yet  he  continued  to 
grasp  the  "45  "  in  his  right  hand,  his  eyes  alert. 

"  Murphy  !  " 

That  single  word,  hurled  thus  unexpectedly  out  of 
the  black  night,  startled  him  more  than  would  a  volley 
of  rifles.  He  sprang  half  erect,  then  as  swiftly 
crouched  behind  a  willow,  utterly  unable  to  articulate. 
In  God's  name,  what  human  could  be  out  there  to 
call?  He  would  have  sworn  that  there  was  not 
another  white  man  within  a  radius  of  a  hundred  miles. 
For  the  instant  his  very  blood  ran  cold ;  he  appeared 
to  shrivel  up. 

"  Oh,  come,  Murphy ;  speak  up,  man ;  I  know 
you  're  in  here." 

That  terror  of  the  unknown  instantly  vanished. 
This  was  the  familiar  language  of  the  world,  and, 
however  the  fellow  came  to  be  there,  it  was  assuredly  a 
man  who  spoke.  With  a  gurgling  oath  at  his  own 
folly,  Murphy's  anger  flared  violently  forth  into  dis 
jointed  speech,  the  deadly  gun  yet  clasped  ready  for 
instant  action. 

"Who  —  the  hell  —  are  ye?"  he  blurted  out. 

The  visitor  laughed,  the  bushes  rustling  as  he 
pushed  toward  the  sound  of  the  voice.  "It's  all 
right,  old  boy.  Gave  ye  quite  a  scare,  I  reckon." 

[310] 


HAUNTING      OF      A      CRIME 

Murphy  could  now  dimly  perceive  the  other  ad 
vancing  through  the  intervening  willows,  and  his  Colt 
shot  up  to  the  level.  "  Stop  !— ye  take  another— step 
an*  I'll— let  drive.  Ye  tell  me— first  — who  ye  be." 

The  invader  paused,  but  he  realized  the  nervous 
finger  pressing  the  trigger  and  made  haste  to  answer. 
"  It's  all  right,  I  tell  ye.  I  'm  one  o'  Terry's  scouts." 

"  Ye  are  ?     Jist  the  same—  I've  heard— yer  voice 

c         »* 

—  arore. 

"  Likely  'nough.     I  saw  service  in  the  Seventh." 

Murphy  was  still  a  trifle  suspicious.  "  How'd  ye 
git  yere  ?  How  'd  ye  come  ter  know  —  whar  I  wus  ?  " 

The  man  laughed  again.  "  Sorter  hurts  yer  perfes- 
sional  feelins,  don't  it,  old  feller,  to  be  dropped  in  on 
in  this  unceremonious  way  ?  But  it  was  dead  easy,  old 
man.  Ye  see  I  happened  thro'  Cheyenne  only  a 
couple  o'  hours  behind  ye,  with  a  bunch  o'  papers  fer 
the  Yellowstone.  The  trail 's  plain  enough  out  this 
far,  and  I  loped  'long  at  a  pretty  fair  hickory,  so  thet 
I  was  up  on  the  bluff  yonder,  and  saw  ye  go  into  camp 
yere  just  afore  dark.  You  wus  a-keepin'  yer  eyes 
skinned  across  the  Fourche,  and  naturally  didn't  ex 
pect  no  callers  from  them  hills  behind.  The  rest  wus 
nuthin',  an'  here  I  am.  It's  a  darn  sight  pleasanter 
ter  hev  company  travelling  ter  my  notion.  Now  kin 
I  cum  on?  " 

Murphy  reluctantly  lowered  his  Colt,  every  move 
ment  betraying  annoyance.  "  I  reckon.  But  I  'd  — 
a  damn  sight —  rather  risk  it  —  alone." 

The  stranger  came  forward  without  further  hesita 
tion.  The  night  was  far  too  dark  to  reveal  features, 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

but  to  Murphy's  strained  vision  the  newcomer 
appeared  somewhat  slender  in  build,  and  of  good 
height. 

"Whar'd —  ye  say  ye  —  wus  bound?" 

"  Mouth  o'  the  Powder.  We  kin  ride  tergether 
fer  a  night  or  two." 

"Ye  kin  —  do  as  ye  —  please,  but  —  I  ain't  a 
huntin' — no  company,  —  an'  I  'm  a*  —  goin'  'cross 
now." 

He  advanced  a  few  strides  toward  his  horses. 
Then  suddenly  he  gave  vent  to  a  smothered  cry,  so 
startling  as  to  cause  the  stranger  to  spring  hastily  after 
him. 

"Oh!  My  God!     Oh!  Look  there!" 

"What  is  it,  man?" 

" There!  there  !     The  picture!     Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Naw ;  I  don't  see  nuthin'.  Ye  ain't  gone  cracked, 
hev  ye  ?  Whose  picture  ? " 

"It's  there!— O  Lord  !— it 's  there !  My  God  ! 
can't  ye  see?  —  An'  it's  his  face  —  all  a-gleamin'  with 
green  flames — Holy  Mary  —  an'  I  ain't  seen  it  — 
afore  in  —  fifteen  year  !  " 

He  seemed  suddenly  to  collapse,  and  the  stranger 
permitted  him  to  drop  limp  to  the  earth. 

"  Darn  if  I  kin  see  anythin',  old  man,  but  I  '11 
scout  'round  thar  a  bit,  jest  ter  ease  yer  mind,  an'  see 
what  I  kin  skeer  up." 

He  had  hardly  taken  a  half-dozen  steps  before 
Murphy  called  after  him:  "Don't — don't  go  an' 
leave  me  —  it's  not  there  now  —  thet 's  queer!" 

The  other  returned  and  stood  gazing  down  upon 


HAUNTING      OF      A      CRIME 

his  huddled  figure.  "  You  're  a  fine  scout !  afeard  o* 
spooks.  Do  ye  take  these  yere  turns  often  ?  Fer  if 
ye  do,  I  reckon  as  how  I  'd  sooner  be  ridin'  alone." 

Murphy  struggled  to  his  feet  and  gripped  the 
other's  arm.  "Never  hed  nuthin'  like  it  —  afore. 
But  —  but  it  was  thar — all  creepy  —  an*  green  —  ain't 
seen  thct  face  —  in  fifteen  year." 

"What  face?" 

"A  —  a  fellow  I  knew  —  once.     He  —  he 's  dead." 

The  other  grunted,  disdainfully.  "  Bad  luck  ter 
see  them  sort,"  he  volunteered,  solemnly.  "  Blame 
glad  it  warn't  me  es  see  it,  an*  I  don't  know  as  I  keer 
much  right  now  'bout  keepin'  company  with  ye  fer 
very  long.  However,  I  reckon  if  either  of  us  calcu 
lates  on  doin'  much  ridin'  terrjight,  we  better  stop 
foolin'  with  ghosts,  an'  go  ter  saddlin'  up." 

They  made  rapid  work  of  it,  the  newcomer 
proving  somewhat  loquacious,  yet  holding  his  voice  to 
a  judicious  whisper,  while  Murphy  relapsed  into  his 
customary  sullen  silence,  but  continued  peering  about 
nervously.  It  was  he  who  led  the  way  down  the 
bank,  the  four  horses  slowly  splashing  'through  the 
shallow  water  to  the  northern  shore.  Before  them 
stretched  a  broad  plain,  the  surface  rocky  and  uneven, 
the  northern  stars  obscured  by  ridges  of  higher  land. 
Murphy  promptly  gave  his  horse  the  spur,  never 
once  glancing  behind,  while  the  other  imitated  his 
example,  holding  his  animal  well  in  check,  being 
apparently  the  better  mounted. 

They  rode  silently.  The  unshod  hoofs  made 
little  noise,  but  a  loosened  canteen  tinkled  on 

[313] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Murphy's  led  horse,  and  he  halted  to  fix  it,  uttering  a 
curse.  The  way  became  more  broken  and  rough  as 
they  advanced,  causing  them  to  exercise  greater 
caution.  Murphy  clung  to  the  hollows,  apparently 
guided  by  some  primitive  instinct  to  choose  the  right 
path,  or  else  able,  like  a  cat,  to  see  the  way  through 
the  gloom,  his  beacon  a  huge  rock  to  the  northward. 
Silently  hour  after  hour,  galloping,  trotting,  walking, 
according  to  the  ground  underfoot,  the  two  pressed 
grimly  forward,  with  the  unerring  skill  of  the  border, 
into  the  untracked  wilderness.  Flying  clouds  ob 
scured  the  stars,  yet  through  the  rifts  they  caught 
fleeting  glimpses  sufficient  to  hold  them  to  their 
course.  And  the  encroaching  hills  swept  in  closer 
upon  either  hand,  leaving  them  groping  their  way 
between  as  in  a  pocket,  yet  ever  advancing  north. 

Finally  they  attained  to  the  steep  bank  of  a 
considerable  stream,  found  the  water  of  sufficient 
depth  to  compel  swimming,  and  crept  up  the  opposite 
shore  dripping  and  miserable,  yet  with  ammunition 
dry.  Murphy  stood  swearing  disjointedly,  wiping 
the  blood  from  a  wound  in  his  forehead  where  the 
jagged  edge  of  a  rock  had  broken  the  skin,  but 
suddenly  stopped  with  a  quick  intake  of  breath  that 
left  him  panting.  The  other  man  crept  toward  him, 
leading  his  horse. 

"What  is  it  now?"  he  asked,  gruffly.  "  Hev'  ye 
got  'em  agin  ?  " 

The  dazed  old  scout  stared,  pointing  directly 
across  the  other's  shoulder,  his  arm  shaking  des 
perately. 

[3 '4] 


HAUNTING      OF      A      CRIME 

"It's  thar!  —  an'  it's  his  face!  Oh,  God!  — I 
know  it  —  fifteen  year." 

The  man  glanced  backward  into  the  pitch  dark 
ness,  but  without  moving  his  body. 

"  There  's  nuthin'  out  there,  'less  it 's  a  firefly,", 
he  insisted,  in  a  tone  of  contempt.  "  You  're  plum 
crazy,  Murphy;  the  night's  got  on  yer  nerves. 
What  is  it  ye  think  ye  see  ?  " 

"His  face,  I  tell  ye!  Don't  I  know?  It's  all 
green  and  ghastly,  with  snaky  flames  playin'  about  it ! 
But  I  know ;  fifteen  years,  an'  I  ain't  fergot." 

He  sank  down  feebly  —  sank  until  he  was  on  his 
knees,  his  head  craned  forward.  The  man  watching 
touched  the  miserable,  hunched-up  figure  compas 
sionately,  and  it  shook  beneath  his  hand,  endeavoring 
to  shrink  away. 

"  My  God  !  was  thet  you  ?  I  thought  it  was  him 
a-reachin'  fer  me.  Here,  let  me  take  yer  hand. 
Oh,  Lord  !  An'  can't  ye  see?  It 's  just  there  beyond 
them  horses  —  all  green,  crawlin',  devilish  —  but  it 's 
him." 

"Who  ? " 

"  Brant !     Brant  —  fifteen  year  !  " 

"Brant?  Fifteen  years?  Do  you  mean  Major 
Brant,  the  one  Nolan  killed  over  at  Bethune  ?  " 

"He  — he  didn't—" 

The  old  man  heaved  forward,  his  head  rocking 
from  side  to  side ;  then  suddenly  he  toppled  over  on 
his  face,  gasping  for  breath.  His  companion  caught 
him,  and  ripped  open  the  heavy  flannel  shirt.  Then 
he  strode  savagely  across  in  front  of  his  shrinking 

[315] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

horse,  tore  down  the  flaring  picture,  and  hastily 
thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  the  light  of  the  phospho 
rus  with  which  it  had  been  drawn  being  reflected  for 
a  moment  on  his  features. 

"A  dirty,  miserable,  low-down  trick,"  he  muttered. 
"Poor  old  devil !  Yet  I  've  got  to  do  it,  for  the  little  girl." 

He  stumbled  back  through  the  darkness,  his  hat 
filled  with  water,  and  dashed  it  into  Murphy's  face. 
"Come  on,  Murphy!  There's  one  good  thing  'bout 
spooks ;  they  don't  hang  'round  fer  long  at  a  time. 
Likely  es  not  this  'un  is  gone  by  now.  Brace  up, 
man,  for  you  an'  I  have  got  ter  get  out  o'  here  afore 


mornin'. 


Then  Murphy  grasped  his  arm,  and  drew  himself 
slowly  to  his  feet. 

"  Don't  see  nuthin'  now,  do  ye  ?  " 

"  No.     Where 's  my — horse  ? " 

The  other  silently  reached  him  the  loose  rein, 
marking  as  he  did  so  the  quick,  nervous  peering  this 
way  and  that,  the  starting  at  the  slightest  sound. 

"  Did  ye  say,  Murphy,  as  how  it  was  n't  Nolan 
after  all  who  plugged  the  Major?" 

"I'm  damned  —  if  I  did.     Who — else  was  it?" 

"  Why,  I  dunno.  Sorter  blamed  odd  though,  thet 
ghost  should  be  a-hauntin'  ye.  Darn  if  it  ain't  creepy 
'nough  ter  make  a  feller  believe  most  anythin'." 

Murphy  drew  himself  up  heavily  into  his  saddle. 
Then  all  at  once  he  shoved  the  muzzle  of  a  "45" 
into  the  other's  face.  "Ye  say  nuther  word — 'bout 
thet,  an*  I'll  make — a  ghost  outer  ye  —  blame 
lively.  Now,  ye  shet  up  —  if  ye  ride  with  me." 


HAUNTING     OF      A      CRIME 

They  moved  forward  at  a  walk  and  reached  a 
higher  level,  across  which  the  night  wind  swept,  bear 
ing  a  touch  of  cold  in  its  breath  as  though  coming 
from  the  snow-capped  mountains  to  the  west. 
There  was  renewed  life  in  this  invigorating  air,  and 
Murphy  spurred  forward,  his  companion  pressing 
steadily  after.  They  were  but  two  flitting  shadows 
arnid  that  vast  desolation  of  plain  and  mountain,  their 
horses'  hoofs  barely  audible.  What  imaginings  of 
evil,  what  visions  of  the  past,  may  have  filled  the  half- 
crazed  brain  of  the  leading  horseman  is  unknowable. 
He  rode  steadily  against  the  black  night  wall,  as 
though  unconscious  of  his  actions,  yet  forgetting  no 
trick,  no  skill  of  the  plains.  But  the  equally  silent 
man  behind  clung  to  him  like  a  shadow  of  doom, 
watching  his  slightest  motion  —  a  Nemesis  that  would 
never  let  go. 

When  the  first  signs  of  returning  day  appeared  in 
the  east,  the  two  left  their  horses  in  a  narrow  canyon, 
and  crept  to  the  summit  of  a  ridge.  Below  lay  the 
broad  valley  of  the  Powder.  Slowly  the  misty  light 
strengthened  into  gray,  and  became  faintly  tinged  with 
crimson,  while  the  green  and  brown  tints  deepened 
beneath  the  advancing  light,  which  ever  revealed  new 
clefts  in  the  distant  hills.  Amid  those  more  northern 
bluffs  a  thin  spiral  of  blue  smoke  was  ascending. 
Undoubtedly  it  was  some  distant  Indian  signal,  and 
the  wary  old  plainsman  watched  it  as  if  fascinated. 
But  the  younger  man  lay  quietly  regarding  him,  a 
drawn  revolver  in  his  hand.  Then  Murphy  turned 
his  head,  and  looked  back  into  the  others  face. 

[317] 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  VERGE  OF  CONFESSION 

MURPHY  uttered  one    sputtering   cry  of  sur 
prise,  flinging  his  hand  instinctively  to  his  hip, 
but   attempted  no    more.      Hampton's    ready 
weapon  was  thrusting  its  muzzle  into  the  astounded 
face,  and  the  gray  eyes  gleaming  along  the  polished 
barrel  held  the  fellow  motionless. 

"  Hands  up  !  Not  a  move,  Murphy !  I  have  the 
drop ! "  The  voice  was  low,  but  stern,  and  the 
old  frontiersman  obeyed  mechanically,  although  his 
seamed  face  was  fairly  distorted  with  rage. 

"You!     Damn  you! — I  thought  I    knew  —  the 


voice." 


"Yes,  I  am  here  all  right.  Rather  odd  place  for 
us  to  meet,  isn't  it?  But,  you  see,  you  Ve  had  the 
advantage  all  these  years ;  you  knew  whom  you  were 
running  away  from,  while  I  was  compelled  to  plod 
along  in  the  dark.  But  I  Ve  caught  up  just  the  same, 
if  it  has  been  a  long  race. " 

"What  do  ye  —  want  me  fer?"  The  look  in  the 
face  was  cunning. 

"Hold  your  hands  quiet — higher,  you  fool! 
That's  it.  Now,  don't  play  with  me.  I  honestly 
didn  't  know  for  certain  I  did  want  you,  Murphy, 
when  I  first  started  out  on  this  trip.  I  merely  sus 
pected  that  I  might,  from  some  things  I  had  been 


VERGE      OF      CONFESSION 

told.  When  somebody  took  the  liberty  of  slashing 
at  my  back  in  a  poker-room  at  Glencaid,  and  drove 
the  knife  into  Slavin  by  mistake,  I  chanced  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  hand  on  the  hilt,  and  there  was  a 
scar  on  it.  About  fifteen  years  before,  I  was  acting  as 
officer  of  the  guard  one  night  at  Bethune.  It  was  a 
bright  starlit  night,  you  remember,  and  just  as  I 
turned  the  corner  of  the  old  powder-house  there  came 
a  sudden  flash,  a  report,  a  sharp  cry.  I  sprang  for 
ward  only  to  fall  headlong  over  a  dead  body ;  but  in 
that  flash  I  had  seen  the  hand  grasping  the  revolver, 
and  there  was  a  scar  on  the  back  of  it,  a  very  peculiar 
scar.  It  chanced  I  had  the  evening  previous  slightly 
quarrelled  with  the  officer  who  was  killed ;  I  was  the 
only  person  known  to  be  near  at  the  time  he  was 
shot;  certain  other  circumstantial  evidence  was  dug 
up,  while  Slavin  and  one  other — no,  it  was  not  you 
—  gave  some  damaging,  manufactured  testimony 
against  me.  As  a  result  I  was  held  guilty  of  murder 
in  the  second  degree,  dismissed  the  army  in  disgrace, 
and  sentenced  to  ten  years'  imprisonment.  So,  you 
see,  it  was  not  exactly  you  I  have  been  hunting, 
Murphy, —  it  was  a  scar." 

Murphy's  face  was  distorted  into  a  hideous  grin. 

"  I  notice  you  bear  exactly  that  kind  of  a  scar,  my 
man,  and  you  spoke  last  night  as  if  you  had  some 
recollection  of  the  case." 

The  mocking  grin  expanded;  into  the  husky  voice 
crept  a  snarl  of  defiance,  for  now  Murphy's  courage  had 
come  back  —  he  was  fronting  flesh  and  blood.  "Oh, 
stop  preachin'  —  an'  shoot  —  an'  be  damned  ter  ye!" 

[.-519] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"You  do  me  a  grave  injustice,  Murphy.  In  the 
first  place,  I  do  not  possess  the  nature  of  an  Indian, 
and  am  not  out  for  revenge.  Your  slashing  at  me 
down  in  Glencaid  has  n't  left  so  much  as  a  sting  be 
hind.  It's  completely  blotted  out,  forgotten.  I 
have  n't  the  slightest  desire  to  kill  you,  man;  but  I  do 
want  to  clear  my  name  of  the  stain  of  that  crime.  I 
want  you  to  tell  the  whole  truth  about  that  night's 
work  at  Bethune;  and  when  you  have  done  so,  you 
can  go.  I  '11  never  lay  a  finger  on  you ;  you  can  go 
where  you  please." 

"  Bah  !  — ye  ain't  got  no  proof — agin  me  —  'sides, 
the  case  is  closed  —  it  can't  be  opened  agin  —  by 
law." 

"You  devil!  I  'd  be  perfectly  justified  in  killing 
you,"  exclaimed  Hampton,  savagely. 

Murphy  stared  at  him  stupidly,  the  cunning  of 
incipient  insanity  in  his  eyes.  "En'  whar — do  ye 
expect — me  ter  say  —  all  this,  pervidin',  of  course 
—  I  wus  fule  'nough  —  ter  do  it  ?  " 

"  Up  yonder  before  Custer  and  the  officers  of  the 
Seventh,  when  we  get  in." 

"They'd  nab  me  — likely." 

"  Now,  see  here,  you  say  it  is  impossible  for  them 
to  touch  you,  because  the  case  is  closed  legally.  Now, 
you  do  not  care  very  much  for  the  opinion  of  others, 
while  from  every  other  standpoint  you  feel  perfectly 
safe.  But  I  Ve  had  to  suffer  for  your  crime,  Murphy, 
suffer  for  fifteen  years,  ten  of  them  behind  stone 
walls ;  and  there  are  others  who  have  suffered  with 
me.  It  has  cost  me  love,  home,  all  that  a  man  holds 


VERGE      OF      CONFESSION 

dear.  I  Ve  borne  this  punishment  for  you,  paid  the 
penalty  of  your  act  to  the  full  satisfaction  of  the  law. 
The  very  least  you  can  do  in  ordinary  decency  is  to 
speak  the  truth  now.  It  will  not  hurt  you,  but  it  will 
lift  me  out  of  hell." 

Murphy's  eyes  were  cunning,  treacherously  shift 
ing  under  the  thatch  of  his  heavy  brows;  he  was  like 
an  old  rat  seeking  for  any  hole  of  refuge.  "Well 
—  maybe  I  might.  Anyhow,  I'll  go  on  —  with  ye. 
Kin  I  sit  up  P  I  'm  dog  tired  — lyin'  yere." 

"  Unbuckle  your  belt,  and  throw  that  over  first." 

"I'm  damned  —  if  I  will.  Not  —  in  no  Injun  — 
country." 

"  I  know  it's  tough,"  retorted  Hampton,  with  ex 
asperating  coolness,  his  revolver's  muzzle  held  steady ; 
"but,  just  the  same,  it's  got  to  be  done.  I  know 
you  far  too  well  to  take  chances  on  your  gun.  So 
unlimber." 

"  Oh,  I — guess  not,"  and  Murphy  spat  contemptu 
ously.  "Do  ye  think  —  I'm  afeard  o'  yer  —  shootin'? 
Ye  don't  dare — fer  I  'm  no  good  ter  ye  —  dead." 

"You  are  perfectly  right.  You  are  quite  a  philos 
opher  in  your  way.  You  would  be  no  good  to  me 
dead,  Murphy,  but  you  might  prove  fully  as  valuable 
maimed.  Now  I  'm  playing  this  game  to  the  limit, 
and  that  limit  is  just  about  reached.  You  unlimber 
before  I  count  ten,  you  murderer,  or  I  '11  spoil  both 
your  hands !  " 

The  mocking,  sardonic  grin  deserted  Murphy's 
features.  It  was  sullen  obstinacy,  not  doubt  of  the 
other's  purpose,  that  paralyzed  him. 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"  Unlimber !     It 's  the  last  call." 

With  a  snarl  the  scout  unclasped  his  army  belt, 
dropped  it  to  the  ground,  and  sullenly  kicked  it  over 
toward  Hampton.  "Now — now  —  you,  you  gray- 
eyed  —  devil,  kin  I  —  sit  up  ?  " 

The  other  nodded.  He  had  drawn  the  fangs  of 
the  wolf,  and  now  that  he  no  longer  feared,  a  sudden, 
unexplainable  feeling  of  sympathy  took  possession  of 
him.  Yet  he  drew  farther  away  before  slipping  his 
own  gun  into  its  sheath.  For  a  time  neither  spoke, 
their  eyes  peering  across  the  ridge.  Murphy  sput 
tered  and  swore,  but  his  victorious  companion  neither 
spoke  nor  moved.  There  were  several  distant  smokes 
out  to  the  northward  now,  evidently  the  answering 
signals  of  different  bands  of  savages,  while  far  away, 
beneath  the  shadow  of  the  low  bluffs  bordering  the 
stream,  numerous  black,  moving  dots  began  to  show 
against  the  light  brown  background.  Hampton, 
noticing  that  Murphy  had  stopped  swearing  to  gaze, 
swung  forward  his  field-glasses  for  a  better  view. 

"  They  are  Indians,  right  enough,"  he  said,  at  last. 
"  Here,  take  a  look,  Murphy.  I  could  count  about 
twenty  in  that  bunch,  and  they  are  travelling  north." 

The  older  man  adjusted  the  tubes  to  his  eyes,  and 
looked  long  and  steadily  at  the  party.  Then  he 
slowly  swung  the  glasses  toward  the  northwest,  ap 
parently  studying  the  country  inch  by  inch,  his  jaws 
working  spasmodically,  his  unoccupied  hand  clutching 
nervously  at  the  grass. 

"  They  seem  —  to  be  a-closin'  in,"  he  declared, 
finally,  staring  around  into  the  other's  face,  all  bravado 

[322] 


VERGE      OF      CONFESSION 

gone.  "There's  anuther  lot  —  bucks,  all  o'  'em  — 
out  west  yonder  —  an*  over  east  a  smudge  is — just 
startin'.  Looks  like  —  we  wus  in  a  pocket — an* 
thar'  might  be  some — har-raisin'  fore  long." 

"  Well,  Murphy,  you  are  the  older  hand  at  this 
business.  What  do  you  advise  doing  ?  " 

"Me?  Why,  push  right  'long — while  we  kin 
keep  under  cover.  Then  —  after  dark — trust  ter 
bull  luck  an'  make —  'nuther  dash.  It's  mostly  luck, 
anyhow.  Thet  canyon  just  ahead  —  looks  like  it 
leads  a  long  way —  toward  the  Powder.  Its  middling 
deep  down,  an'  if  there  ain't  Injuns  in  it  —  them 
fellers  out  yonder — never  cud  git  no  sight  at  us. 
Thet's  my  notion  —  thct  ivery  mile  helps  in  this- — 
business." 

"  You  mean  we  should  start  now  ?  " 

"  Better  —  let  the  cattle  rest — first.  An' —  if  ye 
ever  feed  prisoners  —  I  'd  like  ter  eat  a  bite —  mesilf." 

They  rested  there  for  over  two  hours,  the  tired 
horses  contentedly  munching  the  succulent  grass  of 
the  coulee,  their  two  masters  scarcely  exchanging  a 
word.  Murphy,  after  satisfying  his  appetite,  rested 
flat  upon  his  back,  one  arm  flung  over  his  eyes  to 
protect  them  from  the  sun.  For  a  considerable  time 
Hampton  supposed  him  asleep,  until  he  accidentally 
caught  the  stealthy  glance  which  followed  his  slightest 
movement,  and  instantly  realized  that  the  old  weasel 
was  alert.  Murphy  had  been  beaten,  yet  evidently 
remained  unconquered,  biding  his  chance  with  savage 
stoicism,  and  the  other  watched  him  warily  even  while 
seeming  to  occupy  himself  with  the  field-glass. 

[323] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

At  last  they  saddled  up,  and,  at  first  leading 
their  horses,  passed  down  the  coutie  into  the  more 
precipitous  depths  of  the  narrow  canyon.  This  proved 
hardly  more  than  a  gash  cut  through  the  rolling 
prairie,  rock  strewn,  holding  an  insignificant  stream  of 
brackish  water,  yet  was  an  ideal  hiding-place,  having 
ample  room  for  easy  passage  between  the  rock  walls. 
The  men  mounted,  and  Hampton,  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand,  bade  the  old  scout  assume  the  lead. 

Their  early  advance  was  slow  and  cautious,  as  they 
never  felt  certain  what  hidden  enemies  might  lurk 
behind  the  sharp  corners  of  the  winding  defile,  and 
they  kept  vigilant  eyes  upon  the  serrated  sky-line. 
The  savages  were  moving  north,  and  so  were  they.  It 
would  be  remarkably  good  fortune  if  they  escaped 
running  into  some  wandering  band,  or  if  some  stray 
scout  did  not  stumble  upon  their  trail.  So  they  con 
tinued  to  plod  on. 

It  was  fully  three  o'clock  when  they  attained  to  the 
bank  of  the  Powder,  and  crouched  among  the  rocks  to 
wait  for  the  shades  of  night  to  shroud  their  further 
advance.  Murphy  climbed  the  bluff  for  a  wider  view, 
bearing  Hampton's  field-glasses  slung  across  his  shoul 
der,  for  the  latter  would  not  leave  him  alone  with  the 
horses.  He  returned  finally  to  grunt  out  that  there 
was  nothing  special  in  sight,  except  a  shifting  of  those 
smoke  signals  to  points  farther  north.  Then  they 
lay  down  again,  Hampton  smoking,  Murphy  either 
sleeping  or  pretending  to  sleep.  And  slowly  the 
shadows  of  another  black  night  swept  down  and  shut 
them  in. 


VERGE      OF      CONFESSION 

It  must  have  been  two  hours  later  when  they  ven 
tured  forth.     Silence  and  loneliness    brooded  every 
where,   not   so   much   as   a  breath  of  air  stirring  the 
leaves.     The    unspeakable,  unsolvable    mystery  of  it 
all  rested  like  a  weight  on  the  spirits  of  both  men.    It 
was  a  disquieting  thought  that  bands  of  savages,  eager 
to  discover  and  slay,  were  stealing  among  the  shadows 
of  those  trackless  plains,  and  that  they  must  literally 
feel   their  uncertain  way   through    the    cordon,  every 
sound  an    alarm,  every  advancing  step  a  fresh  peril. 
They  crossed    the    swift,  deep  stream,  and  emerged 
dripping,  chilled    to    the    marrow  by  the   icy  water. 
Then   they  swung   stiffly  into   the  wet   saddles,  and 
plunged,  with  almost  reckless  abandon,  through  the 
darkness.      Murphy  continued  to  lead,  the  light  tread 
of  his  horse  barely  audible,  Hampton  pressing  closely 
behind,  revolver  in  hand,  the  two  pack-horses  trailing 
in    the    rear.      Hampton    had    no    confidence    in    his 
sullen,  treacherous  companion  ;    he  looked   for  early 
trouble,  yet  he  had  little  fear  regarding  any  attempt 
at  escape  now.     Murphy  was  a  plainsman,  and  would 
realize  the  horror  of  being  alone,  unarmed,  and  with 
out  food  on  those  demon-haunted  prairies.     Besides, 
the  silent  man  behind  was  astride  the  better  animal. 
Midnight,   and  they  pulled  up  amid   the  deeper 
gloom  of  a  great,  overhanging  bluff,  having  numerous 
trees  near  its  summit.    There  was  the  glow  of  a  distant 
fire  upon  their  left,  which  reddened  the  sky,  and  re 
flected  oddly  on  the  edges  of  a  vast  cloud-mass  rol 
ling  up  threateningly  from  the  west.     Neither  knew 
definitely  where  they  were,  although  Murphy  guessed 

[325] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

the  narrow  stream  they  had  just  forded  might  be  the 
upper  waters  of  the  Tongue.  Their  horses  stood 
with  heads  hanging  wearily  down,  their  sides  rising 
and  falling;  and  Hampton,  rolling  stiffly  from  the 
saddle,  hastily  loosened  his  girth. 

"  They  '11  drop  under  us  if  we  don't  give  them  an 
hour  or  two,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  They  're  both  dead 
beat." 

Murphy  muttered  something,  incoherent  and 
garnished  with  oaths,  and  the  moment  he  succeeded 
in  releasing  the  buckle,  sank  down  limp  at  the  very 
feet  of  his  horse,  rolling  up  into  a  queer  ball.  The 
other  stared,  and  took  a  step  nearer. 

"What's  the  matter?     Are  you  sick,  Murphy?" 

"No  —  tired  —  don't  want  ter  see  —  thet  thing 
agin." 

"What  thing?" 

"Thet  green,  devilish,  —  crawlin*  face  —  if  ye  must 
know  !  "  And  he  twisted  his  long,  ape-like  arms  across 
his  eyes,  lying  curled  up  as  a  dog  might. 

For  a  moment  Hampton  stood  gazing  down  upon 
him,  listening  to  his  incoherent  mutterings,  his  own 
face  grave  and  sympathetic.  Then  he  moved  back 
and  sat  down.  Suddenly  the  full  conception  of  what 
this  meant  came  to  his  mind  —  the  man  had  gone  mad. 
The  strained  cords  of  that  diseased  brain  had  snapped 
in  the  presence  of  imagined  terrors,  and  now  all  was 
chaos.  The  horror  of  it  overwhelmed  Hampton ; 
not  only  did  this  unexpected  denouement  leave  him 
utterly  hopeless,  but  what  was  he  to  do  with  the 
fellow?  How  could  he  bring  him  forth  from  there 


VERGE      OF      CONFESSION 

alive?  If  this  stream  was  indeed  the  Tongue,  then 
many  a  mile  of  rough  country,  ragged  with  low 
mountains  and  criss-crossed  by  deep  ravines,  yet 
stretched  between  where  they  now  were  and  the 
Little  Big  Horn,  where  they  expected  to  find  Custer's 
men.  They  were  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Indian 
country,  —  the  country  of  the  savage  Sioux.  He 
stared  at  the  curled-up  man,  now  silent  and  breathing 
heavily  as  if  asleep.  The  silence  was  profound,  the 
night  so  black  and  lonely  that  Hampton  involuntarily 
closed  his  heavy  eyes  to  shut  it  out.  If  he  only 
might  light  a  pipe,  or  boil  himself  a  cup  of  black 
coffee!  Murphy  never  stirred;  the  horses  were 
seemingly  too  weary  to  browse.  Then  Hampton 
nodded,  and  sank  into  an  uneasy  doze. 


CHAPTER  V 

ALONE  WITH  THE  INSANE 

BENEATH  the  shade  of  uplifted  arms  Murphy 's 
eyes  remained  unclosed.     Whatever  terrors  may 
have    dominated    that    diseased   brain,   the  one 
purpose   of  revenge   and    escape    never    deserted   it. 
With  patient  cunning  he  could  plan  and  wait,  scheme 
and  execute.     He  was  all  animal  now,  dreaming  only 
of  how  to  tear  and  kill. 

And  he  waited  long  in  order  to  be  perfectly  sure, 
unrolling  inch  by  inch,  and  like  a  venomous  snake, 
never  venturing  to  withdraw  his  baleful  eyes  from  his 
unconscious  victim.  He  was  many  minutes  thor 
oughly  satisfying  himself  that  Hampton  actually 
slept.  His  every  movement  was  slow,  crafty,  cow 
ardly,  the  savage  in  his  perverted  nature  becoming 
more  and  more  manifest.  It  was  more  beast  than  man 
that  finally  crept  forward  on  all-fours,  the  eyes  gleam 
ing  cruel  as  a  cat's  in  the  night.  It  was  not  far  he 
was  compelled  to  go,  his  movements  squirming  and 
noiseless.  Within  a  yard  of  the  peacefully  slumber 
ing  man  he  rose  up,  crouching  on  his  toes  and 
bending  stealthily  forward  to  gloat  over  his  victim. 
Hampton  stirred  uneasily,  possibly  feeling  the  close 
proximity  of  that  horrible  presence.  Then  the  maniac 
took  one  more  stealthy,  slouching  step  nearer,  and 
flung  himself  at  the  exposed  throat,  uttering  a  fierce 


ALONE      WITH      THE      INSANE 

snarl  as  his  fingers  clutched  the  soft  flesh.  Hampton 
awoke,  gasping  and  choking,  to  find  those  mad  eyes 
glaring  into  his  own,  those  murderous  hands  throt 
tling  him  with  the  strength  of  madness. 

At  first  the  stupefied,  half-awakened  man  strug 
gled  as  if  in  delirium,  scarcely  realizing  the  danger. 
He  was  aware  of  suffering,  of  horror,  of  suffocation. 
Then  the  brain  flashed  into  life,  and  he  grappled 
fiercely  with  his  dread  antagonist.  Murphy  snapped 
like  a  mad  dog,  his  lips  snarling  curses  ;  but  Hamp 
ton  fought  silently,  desperately,  his  brain  clearing  as 
he  succeeded  in  wrenching  those  claws  from  his  lacer 
ated  throat,  and  forced  his  way  up  on  to  one  knee. 
He  felt  no  hatred  toward  this  crazed  man  striving 
to  kill  him;  he  understood  what  had  loosed  such  a 
raging  devil.  But  this  was  no  time  to  exhibit  mercy; 
Murphy  bit  and  clawed,  and  Hampton  could  only 
dash  in  upon  him  in  the  effort  to  force  him  back. 
He  worked  his  way,  inch  by  inch,  to  his  feet,  his 
slender  figure  rigid  as  steel,  and  closed  in  upon  the 
other;  but  Murphy  writhed  out  of  his  grasp,  as  a 
snake  might.  The  younger  man  realized  now  to  the 
full  his  peril,  and  his  hand  slipped  down  to  the  gun 
upon  his  hip.  There  was  a  sudden  glint  in  the  faint 
starlight  as  he  struck,  and  the  stunned  maniac  went 
down  quivering,  and  lay  motionless  on  the  hard 
ground.  For  a  moment  the  other  remained  standing 
over  him,  the  heavy  revolver  poised,  but  the  pros 
trate  figure  lay  still,  and  the  conqueror  slipped  his 
weapon  back  into  its  leather  sheath  with  a  sigh  of 
relief. 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

The  noise  of  their  struggle  must  have  carried  far 
through  that  solemn  stillness,  and  no  one  could  guess 
how  near  at  hand  might  be  bands  of  prowling  savages. 
Yet  no  sound  came  to  his  strained  ears  except  the  soft 
soughing  of  the  night  wind  through  the  trees,  and  the 
rustling  of  grass  beneath  the  tread  of  the  horses. 
With  the  quick  decision  of  one  long  accustomed  to 
meet  emergencies,  Hampton  unbuckled  the  lariat  from 
one  of  the  led  animals,  and  bound  Murphy's  hands 
and  limbs  securely. 

As  he  worked  he  thought  rapidly.  He  compre 
hended  the  extreme  desperation  of  their  present  situa 
tion.  While  the  revolver  blow  might  possibly  restore 
Murphy  to  a  degree  of  sanity,  it  was  far  more  prob 
able  that  he  would  awaken  violent.  Yet  he  could  not 
deliberately  leave  this  man  to  meet  a  fate  of  horror  in 
the  wilderness.  Which  way  should  they  turn  ?  Enough 
food,  if  used  sparingly,  might  remain  to  permit  of  a 
hasty  retreat  to  Cheyenne,  and  there  would  be  com 
paratively  little  danger  in  that  direction.  All  visible 
signs  indicated  that  the  scattered  Indian  bands  were 
rapidly  consolidating  to  the  northward,  closing  in  on 
those  troops  scouting  the  Yellowstone,  with  determi 
nation  to  give  early  battle.  Granting  that  the  stream 
they  were  now  on  should  prove  to  be  the  Tongue, 
then  the  direct  route  toward  where  Custer  was  supposed 
to  be  would  be  northwest,  leading  ever  deeper  into  the 
lonely  wilderness,  and  toward  more  imminent  peril. 
Then,  at  the  end  of  that  uncertain  journey,  they  might 
easily  miss  Custer's  column.  That  which  would  have 
been  quickly  decided  had  he  been  alone  became  a 

[330] 


ALONE      WITH      THE      INSANE 

most  serious  problem  when  considered  in  connection 
with  the  insane,  helpless  scout.  But  then,  there  were 
the  despatches  !  They  must  be  of  vital  importance 
to  have  required  the  sending  of  Murphy  forth  on  so 
dangerous  a  ride ;  other  lives,  ay,  the  result  of  the  en 
tire  campaign,  might  depend  upon  their  early  delivery. 
Hampton  had  been  a  soldier,  the  spirit  of  the  service 
was  still  with  him,  and  that  thought  brought  him  to 
final  decision.  Unless  they  were  halted  by  Sioux 
bullets,  they  would  push  on  toward  the  Big  Horn,  and 
Custer  should  have  the  papers. 

He  knelt  down  beside  Murphy,  unbuckled  the 
leather  despatch-bag,  and  rebuckled  it  across  his  own 
shoulder.  Then  he  set  to  work  to  revive  the  pros 
trate  man.  The  eyes,  when  opened,  stared  up  at 
him,  wild  and  glaring;  the  ugly  face  bore  the  expres 
sion  of  abject  fear.  The  man  was  no  longer  violent; 
he  had  become  a  child,  frightened  at  the  dark.  His 
ceaseless  babbling,  his  incessant  cries  of  terror,  only 
rendered  more  precarious  any  attempt  at  pressing 
forward  through  a  region  overrun  with  hostilcs.  But 
Hampton  had  resolved. 

Securely  strapping  Murphy  to  his  saddle,  and 
packing  all  their  remaining  store  of  provisions  upon 
one  horse,  leaving  the  other  to  follow  or  remain 
behind  as  it  pleased,  he  advanced  directly  into  the 
hills,  steering  by  aid  of  the  stars,  his  left  hand  ever  on 
Murphy's  bridle  rein,  his  low  voice  of  expostulation 
seeking  to  calm  the  other's  wild  fancies  and  to  curb 
his  violent  speech.  It  was  a  weird,  wild  ride  through 
the  black  night,  unknown  ground  under  foot,  unseen 

[331] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

dangers  upon  every  hand.  Murphy's  aberrations 
changed  from  shrieking  terror  to  a  wild,  uncontrollable 
hilarity,  with  occasional  outbursts  of  violent  anger, 
when  it  required  all  Hampton's  iron  will  and  muscle 
to  conquer  him. 

At  dawn  they  were  in  a  narrow  gorge  among  the 
hills,  a  dark  and  gloomy  hole,  yet  a  peculiarly  safe  spot 
in  which  to  hide,  having  steep,  rocky  ledges  on  either 
side,  with  sufficient  grass  for  the  horses.  Leaving 
Murphy  bound,  Hampton  clambered  up  the  front 
of  the  rock  to  where  he  was  able  to  look  out.  All 
was  silent,  and  his  heart  sank  as  he  surveyed  the  brown 
sterile  hills  stretching  to  the  horizon,  having  merely 
narrow  gulches  of  rock  and  sand  between,  the  sheer 
nakedness  of  the  picture  unrelieved  by  green  shrub  or 
any  living  thing.  Then,  almost  despairing,  he  slid 
back,  stretched  himself  out  amid  the  soft  grass,  and 
sank  into  the  slumber  of  exhaustion,  his  last  conscious 
memory  the  incoherent  babbling  of  his  insane  com 
panion. 

He  awoke  shortly  after  noon,  feeling  refreshed 
and  renewed  in  both  body  and  mind.  Murphy  was 
sleeping  when  he  first  turned  to  look  at  him,  but  he 
awoke  in  season  to  be  fed,  and  accepted  the  proffered 
food  with  all  the  apparent  delight  of  a  child.  While 
he  rested,  their  remaining  pack-animal  had  strayed, 
and  Hampton  was  compelled  to  go  on  with  only  the 
two  horses,  strapping  the  depleted  store  of  provisions 
behind  his  own  saddle.  Then  he  carefully  hoisted 
Murphy  into  place  and  bound  his  feet  beneath  the 
animal's  belly,  the  poor  fellow  gibbering  at  him,  in 


ALONE     WITH      THE      INSANE 

appearance  an  utter  imbecile,  although  exhibiting 
periodic  flashes  of  malignant  passion.  Then  he 
resumed  the  journey  down  one  of  those  sand-strewn 
depressions  pointing  toward  the  Rosebud,  pressing  the 
refreshed  ponies  into  a  canter,  confident  now  that 
their  greatest  measure  of  safety  lay  in  audacity. 

Apparently  his  faith  in  the  total  desertion  of  these 
"  bad  lands  "  by  the  Indians  was  fully  justified,  for  they 
continued  steadily  mile  after  mile,  meeting  with  no  evi 
dence  of  life  anywhere.  Still  the  travelling  was  good, 
with  here  and  there  little  streams  of  icy  water  trickling 
over  the  rocks.  They  made  most  excellent  progress, 
Hampton  ever  grasping  the  bit  of  Murphy's  horse,  his 
anxious  thought  more  upon  his  helpless  companion  in 
misery  than  upon  the  possible  perils  of  the  route. 

It  was  already  becoming  dusk  when  they  swept 
down  into  a  little  nest  of  green  trees  and  grass.  It 
appeared  so  suddenly,  and  was  such  an  unexpected 
oasis  amid  that  surrounding  wilderness,  that  Hampton 
gave  vent  to  a  sudden  exclamation  of  delight.  But 
that  was  all.  Instantly  he  perceived  numerous  dark 
forms  leaping  from  out  the  shrubbery,  and  he  wheeled 
his  horses  to  the  left,  lashing  them  into  a  rapid  run. 
It  was  all  over  in  a  moment — a  sputtering  of  rifles, 
a  wild  medley  of  cries,  a  glimpse  of  savage  figures, 
and  the  two  were  tearing  down  the  rocks,  the  din  of 
pursuit  dying  away  behind  them.  The  band  were 
evidently  all  on  foot,  yet  Hampton  continued  to  press 
his  mount  at  a  swift  pace,  taking  turn  after  turn  about 
the  sharp  hills,  confident  that  the  hard  earth  would 
leave  no  trace  of  their  passage. 

[333] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Then  suddenly  the  horse  he  rode  sank  like  a  log, 
but  his  tight  grip  upon  the  rein  of  the  other  landed 
him  on  his  feet.  Murphy  laughed,  in  fiendish  mer 
riment  ;  but  Hampton  looked  down  on  the  dead 
horse,  noting  the  stream  of  blood  oozing  out  from 
behind  the  shoulder.  A  stray  Sioux  bullet  had  found 
its  mark,  but  the  gallant  animal  had  struggled  on  until 
it  dropped  lifeless ;  and  the  brave  man  it  had  borne 
so  long  and  so  well  bent  down  and  stroked  tenderly 
the  unconscious  head.  Then  he  shifted  the  provisions 
to  the  back  of  the  other  horse,  grasped  the  loose  rein 
once  more  in  his  left  hand,  and  started  forward  on 
foot. 


[334] 


CHAPTER  VI 

ON  THE  LITTLE  BIG  HORN 

N  TROOP,  guarding,  much  to  their  emphatically 
expressed  disgust,  the  more  slowly  moving 
pack-train,  were  following  Custer's  advancing 
column  of  horsemen  down  the  right  bank  of  the 
Little  Big  Horn.  The  troopers,  carbines  at  knee, 
sitting  erect  in  their  saddles,  their  faces  browned  by  the 
hot  winds  of  the  plains,  were  riding  steadily  northward. 
Beside  them,  mounted  upon  a  rangy  chestnut,  Brant 
kept  his  watchful  eyes  on  those  scattered  flankers 
dotting  the  summit  of  the  near-by  bluff.  Suddenly 
one  of  these  waved  his  hand  eagerly,  and  the  lieuten 
ant  went  dashing  up  the  sharp  ascent. 

"  What  is  it,  now,  Lane  P  " 

"  Somethin'  movin'  jist  out  yonder,  sir,"  and  the 
trooper  pointed  into  the  southeast.  "They're  down 
in  a  coulee  now,  I  reckon ;  but  will  be  up  on  a  ridge 
agin  in  a  minute.  I  got  sight  of  'em  twice  afore  I 
waved." 

The  officer  gazed  earnestly  in  the  direction  indi 
cated,  and  was  almost  immediately  rewarded  by  the 
glimpse  of  some  indistinct,  dark  figures  dimly  showing 
against  the  lighter  background  of  sky.  He  brought 
his  field-glasses  to  a  focus. 

"White  men,"  he  announced,  shortly.  "Come 
with  me." 

[335] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

At  a  brisk  trot  they  rode  out,  the  trooper  lagging 
a  pace  to  the  rear,  the  watchful  eyes  of  both  men 
sweeping  suspiciously  across  the  prairie.  The  two 
parties  met  suddenly  upon  the  summit  of  a  sharp 
ridge,  and  Brant  drew  in  his  horse  with  an  exclamation 
of  astonishment.  It  was  a  pathetic  spectacle  he  stared 
at, — a  horse  scarcely  able  to  stagger  forward,  his  flanks 
quivering  from  exhaustion,  his  head  hanging  limply 
down  ;  on  his  back,  with  feet  strapped  securely  beneath 
and  hands  bound  to  the  high  pommel,  the  lips  grinning 
ferociously,  perched  a  misshapen  creature  clothed  as 
a  man.  Beside  these,  hatless,  his  shoes  barely  holding 
together,  a  man  of  slender  figure  and  sunburnt  face 
held  the  bridle-rein.  An  instant  they  gazed  at  each 
other,  the  young  officer's  eyes  rilled  with  sympathetic 
horror,  the  other  staring  apathetically  at  his  rescuer. 

"My  God!  Can  this  be  you,  Hampton?"  and 
the  startled  lieutenant  flung  himself  from  his  horse. 
cc  What  does  it  mean  ?  Why  are  you  here  ?  " 

Hampton,  leaning  against  the  trembling  horse  to 
keep  erect,  slowly  lifted  his  hand  in  a  semblance  of 
military  salute.  cc  Despatches  from  Cheyenne.  This 
is  Murphy  —  went  crazy  out  yonder.  For  God's 
sake  —  water,  food !  " 

"  Your  canteen,  Lane !  "  exclaimed  Brant.  "  Now 
hold  this  cup,"  and  he  dashed  into  it  a  liberal  supply 
of  brandy  from  a  pocket-flask.  "  Drink  that  all  down, 
Hampton." 

The  man  did  mechanically  as  he  was  ordered,  his 
hand  never  relaxing  its  grasp  of  the  rein.  Then  a 
gleam  of  reawakened  intelligence  appeared  in  his  eyes  ; 

[336] 


ON      THE     LITTLE      BIG      HORN 

he  glanced  up  into  the  leering  countenance  of  Murphy, 
and  then  back  at  those  others.  "  Give  me  another 
for  him." 

Brant  handed  to  him  the  filled  cup,  noting  as  he 
did  so  the  strange  steadiness  of  the  hand  which  accepted 
it.  Hampton  lifted  the  tin  to  the  figure  in  the  saddle, 
his  own  gaze  directed  straight  into  the  eyes  as  he  might 
seek  to  control  a  wild  animal. 

cc  Drink  it,"  he  commanded,  curtly,  "  every  drop  ! " 

For  an  instant  the  maniac  glared  back  at  him 
sullenly ;  then  he  appeared  to  shrink  in  terror,  and 
drank  swiftly. 

"  We  can  make  the  rest  of  the  way  now,"  Hampton 
announced,  quietly.  "  Lord,  but  this  has  been  a  trip  ! " 

Lane  dismounted  at  Brant's  order,  and  assisted 
Hampton  to  climb  into  the  vacated  saddle.  Then  the 
trooper  grasped  the  rein  of  Murphy's  horse,  and  the 
little  party  started  toward  where  the  pack-train  was 
hidden  in  the  valley.  The  young  officer  rode  silent  and 
at  a  walk,  his  eyes  occasionally  studying  the  face  of 
the  other  and. noting  its  drawn,  gray  look.  The  very 
sight  of  Hampton  had  been  a  shock.  Why  was  he  here 
and  with  Murphy  ?  Could  this  strange  journey  have 
anything  to  do  with  Naida  ?  Could  it  concern  his 
own  future,  as  well  as  hers  ?  He  felt  no  lingering 
jealousy  of  this  man,  for  her  truthful  words  had  for 
ever  settled  that  matter.  Yet  who  was  he?  What 
peculiar  power  did  he  wield  over  her  life? 

"  Is  Custer  here?"  said  Hampton. 

"No;  that  is,  not  with  my  party.  We  are  guarding 
the  pack-train.  The  others  are  ahead,  and  Custer, 

[337] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

with  five  troops,  has  moved  to  the  right.     He  is  some 
where  among  those  ridges  back  of  the  bluff." 

The  man  turned  and  looked  where  the  officer  pointed, 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  Before  him  lay  only 
the  brown,  undulating  waves  of  upland,  a  vast  desert 
of  burnt  grass,  shimmering  under  the  hot  sun. 

"  Can  you  give  me  a  fresh  horse,  a  bite  to  eat,  and 
a  cup  of  coffee,  down  there  ?  "  he  asked,  anxiously. 
"  You  see  I  Ve  got  to  go  on." 

"  Go  on  ?  Good  God !  man,  do  you  realize  what 
you  are  saying  ?  Why,  you  can  hardly  sit  the  saddle  ! 
You  carry  despatches,  you  say  ?  Well,  there  are 
plenty  of  good  men  in  my  troop  who  will  volunteer 
to  take  them  on.  You  need  rest." 

"  Not  much,"  said  Hampton.  "  I  'm  fit  enough, 
or  shall  be  as  soon  as  I  get  food.  Good  Lord,  boy, 
I  am  not  done  up  yet,  by  a  long  way!  It's  the 
cursed  loneliness  out  yonder,"  he  swept  his  hand 
toward  the  horizon,  cc  and  the  having  to  care  for  him, 
that  has  broken  my  heart.  He  went  that  way  clear 
back  on  the  Powder,  and  it's  been  a  fight  between  us 
ever  since.  I  '11  be  all  right  now  if  you  lads  will  only 
look  after  him.  This  is  going  to  reach  Custer,  and 
I  '11  take  it !  "  He  flung  back  his  ragged  coat,  his 
hand  on  the  despatch-bag.  "  I  Ve  earned  the  right." 

Brant  reached  forth  his  hand  cordially.  "  That 's 
true ;  you  have.  What's  more,  if  you  're  able  to  make 
the  trip,  there  is  no  one  here  who  will  attempt  to  stop 
you.  But  now  tell  me  how  this  thing  happened. 
I  want  to  know  the  story  before  we  get  in." 

For   a    moment    Hampton    remained    silent,   his 

[338] 


ON      THE      LITTLE      BIG      HORN 

thoughtful  gaze  on  the  near-by  videttes,  his  hands 
leaning  heavily  upon  the  saddle  pommel.  Perhaps 
he  did  not  remember  clearly ;  possibly  he  could  not 
instantly  decide  just  how  much  of  that  story  to  tell. 
Brant  suspected  this  last  to  be  his  difficulty,  and  he 
spoke  impulsively. 

"  Hampton,  there  has  been  trouble  and  misunder 
standing  between  us,  but  that's  all  past  and  gone  now. 
I  sincerely  believe  in  your  purpose  of  right,  and  I 
ask  you  to  trust  me.  Either  of  us  would  give  his  life 
if  need  were,  to  be  of  real  service  to  a  little  girl  back 
yonder  in  the  hills.  I  don't  know  what  you  are  to 
her;  I  don't  ask.  I  know  she  has  every  confidence 
in  you,  and  that  is  enough.  Now,  I  want  to  do  what 
is  right  with  both  of  you,  and  if  you  have  a  word  to 
say  to  me  regarding  this  matter,  I  '11  treat  it  confiden 
tially.  This  trip  with  Murphy  has  some  bearing  upon 
Naida  Gillis,  has  it  not?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Will  you  tell  me  the  story?" 

The  thoughtful  gray  eyes  looked  at  him  long  and 
searchingly.  "  Brant,  do  you  love  that  girl  ?" 

Just  as  unwaveringly  the  blue  eyes  returned  the 
look.  "  I  do.  I  have  asked  her  to  become  my  wife." 

"And  her  answer  ?  " 

"  She  said  no  ;  that  a  dead  man  was  between  us." 

"  Is  that  all  you  know  ?  " 

The  younger  man  bent  his  head,  his  face  grave 
and  perplexed.  "  Practically  all." 

Hampton  wet  his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue,  his 
breath  quickening. 

[3391 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

"And  in  that  she  was  right/'  he  said  at  last,  his 
eyes  lowered  to  the  ground.  "  I  will  tell  you  why. 
It  was  the  father  of  Naida  Gillis  who  was  convicted  of 
the  murder  of  Major  Brant." 

"  Oh,  my  father  P  Is  she  Captain  Nolan's  daugh 
ter?  But  you  say  c  convicted/  Was  there  ever  any 
doubt  ?  Do  you  question  his  being  guilty  ? " 

Hampton  pointed  in  silence  to  the  hideous  crea 
ture  behind  them.  "  That  man  could  tell,  but  he 
has  gone  mad." 

Brant  endeavored  to  speak,  but  the  words  would 
not  come ;  his  brain  seemed  paralyzed.  Hampton 
held  himself  under  better  control. 

"  I  have  confidence,  Lieutenant  Brant,  in  your 
honesty,"  he  began,  gravely,  cc  and  I  believe  you  will 
strive  to  do  whatever  is  best  for  her,  if  anything 
should  happen  to  me  out  yonder.  But  for  the  possi 
bility  of  my  being  knocked  out,  I  would  n't  talk 
about  this,  not  even  to  you.  The  affair  is  a  long  way 
from  being  straightened  out  so  as  to  make  a  pleas 
ant  story,  but  I  '11  give  you  all  you  actually  require  to 
know  in  order  to  make  it  clear  to  her,  provided  I 
shouldn't  come  back.  You  see,  she  doesn't  know 
very  much  more  than  you  do  —  only  what  I  was 
obliged  to  tell  to  keep  her  from  getting  too  deeply 
entangled  with  you.  Maybe  I  ought  to  have  given 
her  the  full  story  before  I  started  on  this  trip.  I  Ve 
since  wished  I  had,  but  you  see,  I  never  dreamed  it 
was  going  to  end  here,  on  the  Big  Horn;  besides, 
I  did  n't  have  the  nerve." 

He  swept  his  heavy   eyes   across  the  brown  and 

[340] 


ON      THE      LITTLE      BIG      HORN 

desolate  prairie,  and  back  to  the  troubled  face  of  the 
younger  man.  "  You  see,  Brant,  I  feel  that  I  simply 
have  to  carry  these  despatches  through.  I  have  a  pride 
in  giving  them  to  Custer  myself,  because  of  the  trouble 
I  've  had  in  getting  them  here.  But  perhaps  I  may 
not  come  back,  and  in  that  case  there  would  n't  be 
any  one  living  to  tell  her  the  truth.  That  thought 
has  bothered  me  ever  since  I  pulled  out  of  Cheyenne. 
It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  going  to  be  a  big  fight 
somewhere  in  these  hills  before  long.  I  Ve  seen  a  lot 
of  Indians  riding  north  within  the  last  four  days,  and 
they  were  all  bucks,  rigged  out  in  war  toggery,  Sioux 
and  Cheyennes.  Ever  since  we  crossed  the  Fourche 
those  fellows  have  been  in  evidence,  and  it 's  my  notion 
that  Custer  has  a  heavier  job  on  his  hands,  right  at 
this  minute,  than  he  has  any  conception  of.  So  I  want 
to  leave  these  private  papers  with  you  until  I  come 
back.  It  will  relieve  my  mind  to  know  they  are  safe; 
if  I  don't  come,  then  I  want  you  to  open  them  and  do 
whatever  you  decide  is  best  for  the  little  girl.  You 
will  do  that,  won't  you  ?  " 

He  handed  over  a  long  manila  envelope  securely 
sealed,  and  the  younger  man  accepted  it,  noticing  that 
it  was  unaddressed  before  depositing  it  safely  in  an 
inner  pocket  of  his  fatigue  jacket. 

"  Certainly,  Hampton, "  he  said.  "  Is  that  all  ?  " 
"All  except  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  now  re 
garding  Murphy.  There  is  no  use  my  attempting  to 
explain  exactly  how  I  chanced  to  find  out  all  these 
things,  for  they  came  to  me  little  by  little  during  several 
years.  I  knew  Nolan,  and  I  knew  your  father,  and  I 

[341] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

had  reason  to  doubt  the  guilt  of  the  Captain,  in  spite  of 
the  verdict  of  the  jury  that  condemned  him.  In  fact,  I 
knew  at  the  time,  although  it  was  not  in  my  power  to 
prove  it,  that  the  two  principal  witnesses  against  Nolan 
lied.  I  thought  I  could  guess  why,  but  we  drifted 
apart,  and  finally  I  lost  all  track  of  every  one  connected 
with  the  affair.  Then  I  happened  to  pick  up  that  girl 
down  in  the  canyon  beyond  the  Bear  Water,  and 
pulled  her  out  alive  just  because  she  chanced  to  be  of 
that  sex,  and  I  could  n't  stand  to  see  her  fall  into  Indian 
clutches.  I  did  n't  feel  any  special  interest  in  her  at 
the  time,  supposing  she  belonged  to  Old  Gillis,  but  she 
somehow  grew  on  me  —  she  's  that  kind,  you  know ; 
and  when  I  discovered,  purely  by  accident,  that  she 
was  Captain  Nolan's  girl,  but  that  it  all  had  been  kept 
from  her,  I  just  naturally  made  up  my  mind  I  'd  dig 
out  the  truth  if  I  possibly  could,  for  her  sake.  The 
fact  is,  I  began  to  think  a  lot  about  her —  not  the  way 
you  do,  you  understand  ;  I'm  getting  too  old  for 
that,  and  have  known  too  much  about  women, — but 
maybe  somewhat  as  a  father  might  feel.  Anyhow,  I 
wanted  to  give  her  a  chance,  a  square  deal,  so  that  she 
would  n't  be  ashamed  of  her  own  name  if  ever  she 
found  out  what  it  was." 

He  paused,  his  eyes  filled  with  memories,  and 
passed  his  hand  through  his  uncovered  hair. 

"About  that  time  I  fell  foul  of  Murphy  and 
Slavin  there  in  Glencaid,"  he  went  on  quickly,  as  if 
anxious  to  conclude.  "  I  never  got  my  eyes  on  Mur 
phy,  you  know,  and  Slavin  was  so  changed  by  that  big 
red  beard  that  I  failed  to  recognize  him.  But  their 

[342] 


ON      THE      LITTLE      BIG      HORN 

actions  aroused  my  suspicions,  and  I  went  after  them 
good  and  hard.  I  wanted  to  find  out  what  they  knew, 
and  why  those  lies  were  told  on  Nolan  at  the  trial.  I 
had  an  idea  they  could  tell  me.  So,  for  a  starter,  I 
tackled  Slavin,  supposing  we  were  alone,  and  I  was 
pumping  the  facts  out  of  him  successfully  by  hold 
ing  a  gun  under  his  nose,  and  occasionally  jogging 
his  memory,  when  this  fellow  Murphy  got  excited, 
and  chasseed  into  the  game,  but  happened  to  nip  his 
partner  instead  of  me.  In  the  course  of  our  little 
scuffle  I  chanced  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  fellow's 
right  hand,  and  it  had  a  scar  on  the  back  of  it  that 
looked  mighty  familiar.  I  had  seen  it  before,  and  I 
wanted  to  sec  it  again.  So,  when  I  got  out  of  that 
scrape,  and  the  doctor  had  dug  a  stray  bullet  out  of 
my  anatomy,  there  did  n't  seem  to  be  any  one  left  for 
me  to  chase  excepting  Murphy,  for  Slavin  was  dead. 
I  was  n't  exactly  sure  he  was  the  owner  of  that  scar, 
but  I  had  my  suspicions  and  wanted  to  verify  them. 
Having  struck  his  trail,  I  reached  Cheyenne  just 
about  four  hours  after  he  left  there  with  these  de 
spatches  for  the  Big  Horn.  I  caught  up  with  the 
fellow  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Belle  Fourche,  and 
being  well  aware  that  no  threats  or  gun  play  would 
ever  force  him  to  confess  the  truth,  I  undertook 
to  frighten  him  by  trickery.  I  brought  along  some 
drawing-paper  and  drew  your  father's  picture  in 
phosphorus,  and  gave  him  the  benefit  in  the  dark. 
That  caught  Murphy  all  right,  and  everything 
was  coming  my  way.  He  threw  up  his  hands,  and 
even  agreed  to  come  in  here  with  me,  and  tell  the 

[343] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

whole  story,  but  the  poor  fellow's  brain  could  n't 
stand  the  strain  of  the  scare  I  had  given  him.  He 
went  raving  mad  on  the  Powder;  he  jumped  on  me 
while  I  was  asleep,  and  since  then  every  mile  has  been 
a  little  hell.  That 's  the  whole  of  it  to  date." 

They  were  up  with  the  pack-train  by  now,  and  the 
cavalrymen  gazed  with  interest  at  the  new  arrivals. 
Several  among  them  seemed  to  recognize  Murphy, 
and  crowded  about  his  horse  with  rough  expressions  of 
sympathy.  Brant  scarcely  glanced  at  them,  his  grave 
eyes  on  Hampton's  stern  face. 

"And  what  is  it  you  wish  me  to  do  ? " 

"Take  care  of  Murphy.  Don't  let  him  remain 
alone  for  a  minute.  If  he  has  any  return  of  reason, 
compel  him  to  talk.  He  knows  you,  and  will  be  as 
greatly  frightened  at  your  presence  and  knowledge  as 
at  mine.  Besides,  you  have  fully  as  much  at  stake  as 
any  one,  for  in  no  other  way  can  the  existing  barrier 
between  Naida  and  yourself  be  broken  down." 

Insisting  that  now  he  felt  perfectly  fit  for  any  ser 
vice,  the  impatient  Hampton  was  quickly  supplied  with 
the  necessary  food  and  clothing,  while  Murphy,  grown 
violently  abusive,  was  strapped  on  a  litter  between  two 
mules,  a  guard  on  either  side.  Brant  rode  with  the 
civilian  on  a  sharp  trot  as  far  as  the  head  of  the  pack- 
train,  endeavoring  to  the  very  last  to  persuade  the 
weaned  man  to  relinquish  this  work  to  another. 

"Foster,"  he  said  to  the  sergeant  in  commandof  the 
advance,  "did  you  chance  to  notice  just  what  coulee  Cus- 
ter  turned  into  when  his  column  swung  to  the  right?" 

"I  think  it  must  have  been  the  second  yonder,  sir; 
[344] 


ON      THE     LITTLE      BIG      HORN 

where  you  see  that  bunch  of  trees.  We  was  a  long 
ways  back,  but  I  could  see  the  boys  plain  enough 
as  they  come  out  on  the  bluff  up  there.  Some  of 
'em  waved  their  hats  back  at  us.  Is  this  man  goin' 
after  them,  sir  ?" 

"Yes,  he  has  despatches  from  Cheyenne." 
"Well,  he  ought  ter  have  no  trouble  findin'  the 
trail.  It  ought  ter  be  'bout  as  plain  as  a  road  back  in 
God's  country,  sir,  fer  there  were  more  than  two  hun 
dred  horses,  and  they'd  leave  a  good  mark  even  on 
hard  ground." 

Brant  held  out  his  hand.  "I'll  certainly  do  all  in 
my  power,  Hampton,  to  bring  this  out  right.  You 
can  rely  on  that,  and  I  will  be  faithful  to  the  little  girl. 
Now,  just  a  word  to  guide  you  regarding  our  situation 
here.  We  have  every  reason  for  believing  that  the 
Sioux  are  in  considerable  force  in  our  front  some 
where,  and  not  far  down  this  stream.  Nobody  knows 
just  how  strong  they  are,  but  it  looks  to  me  as  if  we 
were  pretty  badly  split  up  for  a  very  heavy  engage 
ment.  Not  that  I  question  Custer's  plan,  you  under 
stand,  only  he  may  be  mistaken  about  what  the  Indians 
will  do.  Benteen's  battalion  is  out  there  to  the  west; 
Reno  is  just  ahead  of  us  up  the  valley;  while  Custer 
has  taken  five  troops  on  a  detour  to  the  right  across  the 
bluffs,  hoping  to  come  down  on  the  rear  of  the  Sioux. 
The  idea  is  to  crush  them  between  the  three  columns. 
No  one  of  these  detachments  has  more  than  two 
hundred  men,  yet  it  may  come  out  all  right  if  they 
only  succeed  in  striking  together.  Still  it  's  risky  in 
such  rough  country,  not  knowing  exactly  where  the 

[345] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

enemy  is.     Well,  good  luck  to   you,  and   take  care 
of  yourself." 

The  two  men  clasped  hands,  their  eyes  filled  with 
mutual  confidence.  Then  Hampton  touched  spurs  to 
his  horse,  and  galloped  swiftly  forward. 


[346] 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  VALLEY 

FAR  below,  in  the  heart  of  the  sunny  depression 
bordering  the  left  bank  of  the  Little  Big  Horn, 
the  stalwart  troopers  under  Reno's  command 
gazed  up  the  steep  bluff  to  wave  farewell  to  their  com 
rades  disappearing  to  the  right.  Last  of  all,  Custer 
halted  his  horse  an  instant,  silhouetted  against  the  blue 
sky,  and  swung  his  hat  before  spurring  out  of  sight. 
The  plan  of  battle  was  most  simple  and  direct.  It 
involved  a  nearly  simultaneous  attack  upon  the  vast  In 
dian  village  from  below  and  above,  success  depending 
altogether  upon  the  prompt  cooperation  of  the  separate 
detachments.  This  was  understood  by  every  trooper 
in  the  ranks.  Scarcely  had  Custer's  slender  column 
of  horsemen  vanished  across  the  summit  before  Reno's 
command  advanced,  trotting  down  the  valley,  the 
Arikara  scouts  in  the  lead.  They  had  been  chosen 
to  strike  the  first  blow,  to  force  their  way  into  the 
lower  village,  and  thus  to  draw  the  defending  warriors 
to  their  front,  while  Custer's  men  were  to  charge 
upon  the  rear.  It  was  an  old  trick  of  the  Seventh, 
and  not  a  man  in  saddle  ever  dreamed  the  plan 
could  fail. 

A  half-mile,  a  mile,  Reno's  troops  rode,  with  no 
sound  breaking  the  silence  but  the  pounding  of  hoofs, 
the  tinkle  of  accoutrements.  Then,  rounding  a  sharp 

[347] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

projection  of  earth  and  rock,  the  scattered  lodges  of  the 
Indian  village  already  partially  revealed  to  those  in  ad 
vance,  the  riders  were  brought  to  sudden  halt  by  a 
fierce  crackling  of  rifles  from  rock  and  ravine,  an  out 
burst  of  fire  in  their  faces,  the  wild,  resounding  screech 
of  war-cries,  and  the  scurrying  across  their  front  of 
dense  bodies  of  mounted  warriors,  hideous  in  paint 
and  feathers.  Men  fell  cursing,  and  the  frightened 
horses  swerved,  their  riders  struggling  madly  with  their 
mounts,  the  column  thrown  into  momentary  con 
fusion.  But  the  surprised  cavalrymen,  quailing  be 
neath  the  hot  fire  poured  into  them,  rallied  to  the 
shouts  of  their  officers,  and  swung  into  a  slender 
battle-front,  stretching  out  their  thin  line  from  the  bank 
of  the  river  to  the  sharp  uplift  of  the  western  bluffs. 
Riderless  horses  crashed  through  them,  neighing  with 
pain ;  the  wounded  begged  for  help  ;  while,  with  cries 
of  terror,  the  cowardly  Ankara  scouts  lashed  their 
ponies  in  wild  efforts  to  escape.  Scarcely  one  hundred 
and  fifty  white  troopers  waited  to  stem  as  best  they 
might  that  fierce  onrush  of  twelve  hundred  battle- 
crazed  braves. 

For  an  almost  breathless  space  those  mingled 
hordes  of  Sioux  and  Cheyennes  hesitated  to  drive 
straight  home  their  death-blow.  They  knew  those 
silent  men  in  the  blue  shirts,  knew  they  died  hard. 
Upon  that  slight  pause  pivoted  the  fate  of  the  day  ; 
upon  it  hung  the  lives  of  those  other  men  riding 
boldly  and  trustfully  across  the  sunlit  ridges  above. 
"Audacity,  always  audacity,"  that  is  the  accepted  motto 
for  a  cavalryman.  And  be  the  cause  what  it  may,  it  was 

[348] 


FIGHTING     IN     THE     VALLEY 

here  that  Major  Reno  failed.  In  that  supreme  instant 
he  was  guilty  of  hesitancy,  doubt,  delay.  He  chose 
defence  in  preference  to  attack,  dallied  where  he  should 
have  acted.  Instead  of  hurling  like  a  thunderbolt  that 
handful  of  eager  fighting  men  straight  at  the  exposed 
heart  of  the  foe,  making  dash  and  momentum,  dis 
cipline  and  daring,  an  offset  to  lack  of  numbers,  he 
lingered  in  indecision,  until  the  observing  savages, 
gathering  courage  from  his  apparent  weakness,  burst 
forth  in  resistless  torrent  against  the  slender,  unsup 
ported  line,  turned  his  flank  by  one  fierce  charge,  and 
hurled  the  struggling  troopers  back  with  a  rush 
into  the  narrow  strip  of  timber  bordering  the  river. 

Driven  thus  to  bay,  the  stream  at  their  back 
rendering  farther  retreat  impossible,  for  a  few  moments 
the  light  carbines  of  the  soldiers  met  the  Indian  rifles, 
giving  back  lead  for  lead.  But  already  every  chance 
for  successful  attack  had  vanished ;  the  whole  narrow 
valley  seemed  to  swarm  with  braves ;  they  poured 
forth  from  sheltering  coulees  and  shadowed  ravines; 
they  dashed  down  in  countless  numbers  from  the 
distant  village.  Custer,  now  far  away  behind  the 
bluffs,  and  almost  beyond  sound  of  the  firing,  was 
utterly  ignored.  Every  savage  chief  knew  exactly 
where  that  column  was,  but  it  could  await  its  turn ; 
Gall,  Crazy  Horse,  and  Crow  King  mustered  their 
red  warriors  for  one  determined  effort  to  crush  Reno, 
to  grind  him  into  dust  beneath  their  ponies'  hoofs. 
Ay,  and  they  nearly  did  it ! 

In  leaderless  effort  to  break  away  from  that  swift- 
gathering  cordon,  before  the  red,   remorseless   folds 

[349] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

should  close  tighter  and  crush  them  to  death,  the 
troopers,  half  of  them  already  dismounted,  burst  from 
cover  in  an  endeavor  to  attain  the  shelter  of  the  bluffs. 
The  deadly  Indian  rifles  flamed  in  their  faces,  and 
they  were  hurled  back,  a  mere  fleeing  mob,  searching 
for  nothing  in  that  moment  of  terror  but  a  possible 
passageway  across  the  stream.  Through  some  rare 
providence  of  God,  they  chanced  to  strike  the  banks 
at  a  spot  where  the  river  proved  fordable.  They 
plunged  headlong  in,  officers  and  men  commingled, 
the  Indian  bullets  churning  up  the  water  on  every 
side ;  they  struggled  madly  through,  and  spurred  their 
horses  up  the  steep  ridge  beyond.  A  few  cool-headed 
veterans  halted  at  the  edge  of  the  bank  to  defend  the 
passage  ;  but  the  majority,  crazed  by  panic  and  forget 
ful  of  all  discipline,  raced  frantically  for  the  summit. 
Dr.  De  Wolf  stood  at  the  very  water's  edge  firing 
until  shot  down  ;  Mclntosh,  striving  vainly  to  rally  his 
demoralized  men,  sank  with  a  bullet  in  his  brain  ; 
Hodgson,  his  leg  broken  by  a  ball,  clung  to  a  ser 
geant's  stirrup  until  a  second  shot  stretched  him  dead 
upon  the  bank.  The  loss  in  that  wild  retreat  (which 
Reno  later  called  a  cc  charge ")  was  heavy,  the  effect 
demoralizing;  but  those  who  escaped  found  a  spot 
well  suited  for  defence.  Even  as  they  swung  down 
from  off  their  wounded,  panting  horses,  and  flung 
themselves  flat  upon  their  faces  to  sweep  with  hastily 
levelled  carbines  the  river  banks  below,  Benteen  came 
trotting  gallantly  down  the  valley  to  their  aid,  his 
troopers  fresh  and  eager  to  be  thrown  forward  on  the 
firing-line.  The  worst  was  over,  and  like  maddened 

[.350] 


FIGHTING      IN      THE      VALLEY 

lions,  the  rallied  soldiers  of  the  Seventh,  cursing  their 
folly,  turned  to  strike  and  slay. 

The  valley  was  obscured  with  clouds  of  dust 
and  smoke,  the  day  frightfully  hot  and  suffocating. 
The  various  troop  commanders,  gaining  control  over 
their  men,  were  prompt  to  act.  A  line  of  skirmishers 
was  hastily  thrown  forward  along  the  edge  of  the 
bluff,  while  volunteers,  urged  by  the  agonized  cries  of 
the  wounded,  endeavored  vainly  to  procure  a  supply 
of  water  from  the  river.  Again  and  again  they  made 
the  effort,  only  to  be  driven  back  by  the  deadly  Indian 
rifle  fire.  This  came  mostly  from  braves  concealed 
behind  rocks  or  protected  by  the  timber  along  the 
stream,  but  large  numbers  of  hostiles  were  plainly  vis 
ible,  not  only  in  the  valley,  but  also  upon  the  ridges. 
The  firing  upon  their  position  continued  incessantly, 
the  warriors  continually  changing  their  point  of  attack. 
By  three  o'clock,  although  the  majority  of  the  savages 
had  departed  down  the  river,  enough  remained  to 
keep  up  a  galling  fire,  and  hold  Reno  strictly  on  the 
defensive.  These  reds  skulked  in  ravines,  or  lined  the 
banks  of  the  river,  their  long-range  rifles  rendering 
the  lighter  carbines  of  the  cavalrymen  almost  value 
less.  A  few  crouched  along  the  edge  of  higher 
eminences,  their  shots  crashing  in  among  the  unpro 
tected  troops. 

As  the  men  lay  exposed  to  this  continuous  snip 
ing  fire,  above  the  surrounding  din  were  borne  to  their 
ears  the  reports  of  distant  guns.  It  came  distinctly 
from  the  northward,  growing  heavier  and  more  con 
tinuous.  None  among  them  doubted  its  ominous 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

meaning.  Custer  was  already  engaged  in  hot  action 
at  the  right  of  the  Indian  village.  Why  were  they 
kept  lying  there  in  idleness?  Why  were  they  not 
pushed  forward  to  do  their  part?  They  looked  into 
each  other's  faces.  God !  They  were  three  hundred 
now;  they  could  sweep  aside  like  chaff  that  fringe 
of  red  skirmishers  if  only  they  got  the  word !  With 
hearts  throbbing,  every  nerve  tense,  they  waited, 
each  trooper  crouched  for  the  spring.  Officer  after 
officer,  unable  to  restrain  his  impatience,  strode  back 
across  the  bluff  summit,  amid  whistling  bullets,  and 
personally  begged  the  Major  to  speak  the  one  word 
which  should  hurl  them  to  the  rescue.  They  cried 
like  women,  they  swore  through  clinched  teeth,  they 
openly  exhibited  their  contempt  for  such  a  com 
mander,  yet  the  discipline  of  army  service  made  active 
disobedience  impossible.  They  went  reluctantly  back, 
as  helpless  as  children. 

It  was  four  o'clock,  the  shadows  of  the  western 
bluffs  already  darkening  the  river  bank.  Suddenly 
a  faint  cheer  ran  along  the  lines,  and  the  men  lifted 
themselves  to  gaze  up  the  river.  Urging  the  tired 
animals  to  a  trot,  the  strong  hand  of  a  trooper  grasp 
ing  every  halter-strap,  Brant  was  swinging  his  long 
pack-train  up  the  smoke-wreathed  valley.  The  out 
riding  flankers  exchanged  constant  shots  with  the 
skulking  savages  hiding  in  every  ravine  and  coulee. 
Pausing  only  to  protect  their  wounded,  fighting  their 
way  step  by  step,  N  Troop  ran  the  gantlet  and  came 
charging  into  the  cheering  lines  with  every  pound  of 
their  treasure  safe.  Weir  of  D,  whose  dismounted 

[3S*] 


FIGHTING      IN     THE     VALLEY 

troopers  held  that  portion  of  the  line,  strode  a  pace 
forward  to  greet  the  leader,  and  as  the  extended 
hands  of  the  officers  met,  there  echoed  down  to  them 
from  the  north  the  reports  of  two  heavy  volleys,  fired 
in  rapid  succession.  The  sounds  were  clear,  distinctly 
audible  even  above  the  uproar  of  the  valley.  The 
heavy  eyes  of  the  two  soldiers  met,  their  dust-streaked 
faces  flushed. 

"That  was  a  signal,  Custer's  signal  for  help!" 
the  younger  man  cried,  impulsively,  his  voice  full  of 
agony.  "  For  God's  sake,  Weir,  what  are  you 
fellows  waiting  here  for  ?  " 

The  other  uttered  a  groan,  his  hand  flung  in  con 
tempt  back  toward  the  bluff  summit.  "  The  cowardly 
fool  won't  move;  he's  whipped  to  death  now/' 

Brant's  jaw  set  like  that  of  a  fighting  bulldog. 

"  Reno,  you  mean  ?  Whipped  ?  You  have  n't 
lost  twenty  men.  Is  this  the  Seventh  —  the  Seventh? 
—  skulking  here  under  cover  while  Custer  begs 
help?  Does  n't  the  man  know?  Doesn't  he  under 
stand?  By  heaven,  I  '11  face  him  myself!  I  '11  make 
him  act,  even  if  I  have  to  damn  him  to  his  face." 

He  swung  his  horse  with  a  jerk  to  the  left,  but 
even  as  the  spurs  touched,  Weir  grasped  the  taut  rein 
firmly. 

"It's  no  use,  Brant.  It's  been  done;  we've  all 
been  at  him.  He's  simply  lost  his  head.  Know? 
Of  course  he  knows.  Martini  struck  us  just  below 
here,  as  we  were  coming  in,  with  a  message  from 
Custer.  It  would  have  stirred  the  blood  of  any  one 
but  him  — Oh,  God!  it's  terrible." 

[3531 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

"  A  message  ?     What  was  it?  " 

"Cook  wrote  it,  and  addressed  it  to  Benteen.  It 
read :  c  Come  on.  Big  village.  Be  quick.  Bring 
packs/  And  then,  <  P.  S.— Bring  packs/  That 
means  they  want  ammunition  badly  ;  they  're  fight 
ing  to  the  death  out  yonder,  and  they  need  powder. 
Oh,  the  coward  !  " 

Brant's  eyes  ran  down  the  waiting  line  of  his  own 
men,  sitting  their  saddles  beside  the  halted  pack- 
animals.  He  leaned  over  and  dropped  one  hand 
heavily  on  Weir's  shoulder.  "  The  rest  of  you  can 
do  as  you  please,  but  N  Troop  is  going  to  take  those 
ammunition  packs  over  to  Custer  if  there  's  any  pos 
sible  way  to  get  through,  orders  or  no  orders."  He 
straightened  up  in  the  saddle,  and  his  voice  sounded 
down  the  wearied  line  like  the  blast  of  a  trumpet. 

"Attention !  N  Troop !  Right  face ;  dress. 
Number  four  bring  forward  the  ammunition  packs. 
No,  leave  the  others  where  they  are;  move  lively,  men !" 

He  watched  them  swing  like  magic  into  formation, 
their  dust-begrimed  faces  lighting  up  with  animation. 
They  knew  their  officer,  and  this  meant  business. 

"  Unsling  carbines  —  load  !  " 

Weir,  the  veteran  soldier,  glanced  down  that 
steady  line  of  ready  troopers,  and  then  back  to  Brant's 
face.  "Do  you  mean  it?  Are  you  going  up  those 
bluffs?  Good  Heavens,  man,  it  will  mean  a  court- 
martial." 

"  Custer  commands  the  Seventh.  I  command  the 
pack-train,"  said  Brant.  "His  orders  are  to  bring  up 
the  packs.  Perhaps  I  can't  get  through  alone,  but 

[354] 


FIGHTING      IN      THE      VALLEY 

I  '11  try.  Better  a  court-martial  than  to  fail  those  men 
out  there.  Going?  Of  course  I  'm  going.  Into  line 
— take  intervals — forward  ! " 

"  Attention,  D  Troop  !"  It  was  Weir's  voice,  eager 
and  determined  now.  Like  an  undammed  current  his 
orders  rang  out  above  the  uproar,  and  in  a  moment 
the  gallant  troopers  of  N  and  D,  some  on  foot,  some 
in  saddle,  were  rushing  up  the  face  of  the  bluff,  their 
officers  leading,  the  precious  ammunition  packs  at  the 
centre,  all  alike  scrambling  for  the  summit,  in  spite  of 
the  crackling  of  Indian  rifles  from  every  side.  Foot 
by  foot  they  fought  their  way  forward,  sliding  and 
stumbling,  until  the  little  blue  wave  burst  out  against 
the  sky-line  and  sent  an  exultant  cheer  back  to  those 
below.  Panting,  breathless  from  the  hard  climb,  their 
carbines  spitting  fire  while  the  rapidly  massing  savages 
began  circling  their  exposed  position,  the  little  band 
fought  their  way  forward  a  hundred  yards.  Then  they 
halted,  blocked  by  the  numbers  barring  their  path, 
glancing  back  anxiously  in  hope  that  their  effort  would 
encourage  others  to  join  them.  They  could  do  it; 
they  could  do  it  if  only  the  rest  of  the  boys  would 
come.  They  poured  in  their  volleys  and  waited. 
But  Reno  made  no  move.  Weir  and  Brant,  deter 
mined  to  hold  every  inch  thus  gained,  threw  the  dis 
mounted  men  on  their  faces  behind  every  projection 
of  earth,  and  encircled  the  ridge  with  flame.  If  they 
could  not  advance,  they  would  not  be  driven  back. 
They  were  high  up  now,  where  they  could  overlook  the 
numerous  ridges  and  valleys  far  around ;  and  yonder, 
perhaps  two  miles  away,  they  could  perceive  vast 

[355] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

bodies  of  mounted  Indians,  while  the  distant  sound 
of  heavy  firing  was  borne  faintly  to  their  ears.  It 
was  vengeful  savages  shooting  into  the  bodies  of  the 
dead,  but  that  they  did  not  know.  Messenger  after 
messenger,  taking  life  in  hand,  was  sent  skurrying 
down  the  bluff,  to  beg  reinforcements  to  push  on 
for  the  rescue,  swearing  it  was  possible.  But  it  was 
after  five  o'clock  before  Reno  moved.  Then  cau 
tiously  he  advanced  his  column  toward  where  N  and 
D  Troops  yet  held  desperately  to  the  exposed  ridge. 
He  came  too  late.  That  distant  firing  had  ceased, 
and  all  need  for  further  advance  had  ended.  Already 
vast  forces  of  Indians,  flushed  with  victory  and  waving 
bloody  scalps,  were  sweeping  back  across  the  ridges  to 
attack  in  force.  Scarcely  had  reinforcements  attained 
the  summit  before  the  torrent  of  savagery  burst 
screeching  on  their  front. 

From  point  to  point  the  grim  struggle  raged,  till 
nightfall  wrought  partial  cessation.  The  wearied 
troopers  stretched  out  their  lines  so  as  to  protect  the 
packs  and  the  field  hospital,  threw  themselves  on  the 
ground,  digging  rifle-pits  with  knives  and  tin  pans. 
Not  until  nine  o'clock  did  the  Indian  fire  slacken,  and 
then  the  village  became  a  scene  of  savage  revel,  the 
wild  yelling  plainly  audible  to  the  soldiers  above. 
Through  the  black  night  Brant  stepped  carefully  across 
the  recumbent  forms  of  his  men,  and  made  his  way  to 
the  field  hospital.  In  the  glare  of  the  single  fire  the 
red  sear  of  a  bullet  showed  clearly  across  his  forehead, 
but  he  wiped  away  the  slowly  trickling  blood,  and 
bent  over  a  form  extended  on  a  blanket. 

[356] 


FIGHTING     IN     THE     VALLEY 

"  Has  he  roused  up  ? "  he  questioned  of  the 
trooper  on  guard. 

"Not  to  know  nuthin',  sir.  He's  bin  swearin' 
an'  gurglin'  most  o'  ther  time,  but  he 's  asleep  now,  I 
reckon." 

The  young  officer  stood  silent,  his  face  pale,  his 
gaze  upon  the  distant  Indian  fires.  Out  yonder  were 
defeat,  torture,  death,  and  to-morrow  meant  a  renewal 
of  the  struggle.  His  heart  was  heavy  with  forebod 
ing,  his  memory  far  away  with  one  to  whom  all  this 
misfortune  might  come  almost  as  a  death-blow.  It 
was  Naida's  questioning  face  that  haunted  him ;  she 
was  waiting  for  she  knew  not  what. 


[357] 


CHAPTER   VIII 
THE  OLD  REGIMENT 

BY  the  time  Hampton  swung  up  the  coulee,  he 
had  dismissed  from  his  attention  everything 
but  the  business  that  had  brought  him  there. 
No  lingering  thought  of  Naida,  or  of  the  miserable 
Murphy,  was  permitted  to  interfere  with  the  serious 
work  before  him.  To  be  once  again  with  the  old 
Seventh  was  itself  inspiration ;  to  ride  with  them  into 
battle  was  the  chief  desire  of  his  heart.  It  was  a  dream 
of  years,  which  he  had  never  supposed  possible  of 
fulfilment,  and  he  rode  rapidly  forward,  his  lips 
smiling,  the  sunshine  of  noonday  lighting  up  his  face. 
He  experienced  no  fear,  no  premonition  of  coming 
disaster,  yet  the  reawakened  plainsman  in  him  kept 
him  sufficiently  wary  and  cautious.  The  faint  note  of 
discontent  apparent  in  Brant's  concluding  words  — 
doubtless  merely  an  echo  of  that  ambitious  officer's 
dislike  at  being  put  on  guard  over  the  pack-train  at 
such  a  moment  —  awoke  no  response  in  his  mind.  He 
possessed  a  soldier's  proud  confidence  in  his  regiment 
—  the  supposition  that  the  old  fighting  Seventh  could 
be  defeated  was  impossible;  the  Indians  did  not  ride 
those  uplands  who  could  do  the  deed !  Then  there 
came  to  him  a  nameless  dread,  that  instinctive  shrink 
ing  which  a  proud,  sensitive  man  must  ever  feel  at  hav 
ing  to  face  his  old  companions  with  the  shadow  of  a 

[358] 


THE      OLD      REGIMENT 

crime  between.  In  his  memory  he  saw  once  more 
a  low-ceiled  room,  having  a  table  extending  down 
the  centre,  with  grave-faced  men,  dressed  in  the  full 
uniform  of  the  service,  looking  at  him  amid  a  silence 
like  unto  death ;  and  at  the  head  sat  a  man  with  long 
fair  hair  and  mustache,  his  proud  eyes  never  to  be 
forgotten.  Now,  after  silent  years,  he  was  going  to 
look  into  those  accusing  eyes  again.  He  pressed  his 
hand  against  his  forehead,  his  body  trembled;  then  he 
braced  himself  for  the  interview,  and  the  shuddering 
coward  in  him  shrank  back. 

He  had  become  wearied  of  the  endless  vista  of 
desert,  rock,  and  plain.  Yet  now  it  strangely  appealed 
to  him  in  its  beauty.  About  him  were  those  uneven, 
rolling  hills,  like  a  vast  storm-lashed  sea,  the  brown 
crests  devoid  of  life,  yet  with  depressions  between 
sufficient  to  conceal  multitudes.  Once  he  looked 
dov/n  through  a  wide  cleft  in  the  face  of  the  bluff,  and 
could  perceive  the  head  of  the  slowly  advancing  pack- 
train  far  below.  Away  to  the  left  something  was 
moving,  a  dim,  shapeless  dash  of  color.  It  might  be 
Benteen,  but  of  Reno's  columns  he  could  perceive 
nothing,  nor  anything  of  Custer's  excepting  that  broad 
track  across  the  prairies  marked  by  his  horses'  hoofs. 
This  track  Hampton  followed,  pressing  his  fresh 
mount  to  increased  speed,  confident  that  no  Indian 
spies  would  be  loitering  so  closely  in  the  rear  of  that 
body  of  cavalry,  and  becoming  fearful  lest  the  attack 
should  occur  before  he  could  arrive. 

He  dipped  over  a  sharp  ridge  and  came  suddenly 
upon  the  rear-guard.  They  were  a  little  squad  of 

[359] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

dusty,  brown-faced  troopers,  who  instantly  wheeled 
into  line  at  sound  of  approaching  hoofs,  the  barrels  of 
their  lowered  carbines  glistening  in  the  sun.  With  a 
swing  of  the  hand,  and  a  hoarse  shout  of  "Despatches!" 
he  was  beyond  them,  bending  low  over  his  saddle 
pommel,  his  eyes  on  the  dust  cloud  of  the  moving 
column.  The  extended  line  of  horsemen,  riding  in 
column  of  fours,  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  and  he  raced 
swiftly  on.  A  little  squad  of  officers,  several  of  their 
number  dismounted,  were  out  in  front,  standing 
grouped  just  below  the  summit  of  a  slight  elevation, 
apparently  looking  off  into  the  valley  through  some 
cleft  in  the  bluff  beyond.  Standing  among  these, 
Hampton  perceived  the  long  fair  hair,  and  the  erect 
figure  clad  in  the  well-known  frontier  costume,  of  the 
man  he  sought,  —  the  proud,  dashing  leader  of  light 
cavalry,  that  beau  ideal  of  the  sabreur,  the  one  he 
dreaded  most,  the  one  he  loved  best,  —  Custer.  The 
commander  stood,  field-glasses  in  hand,  pointing  down 
into  the  valley,  and  the  despatch  bearer,  reining  in  his 
horse,  his  lips  white  but  resolute,  trotted  straight  up 
the  slope  toward  him.  Custer  wheeled,  annoyed  at 
the  interruption,  and  Hampton  swung  down  from  the 
saddle,  his  rein  flung  across  his  arm,  took  a  single  step 
forward,  lifting  his  hand  in  salute,  and  held  forth  the 
sealed  packet. 

"Despatches,  sir,"  he  said,  simply,  standing  motion 
less  as  a  statue. 

The  commander,  barely  glancing  toward  him,  in 
stantly  tore  open  the  long  official  envelope  and  ran  his 
eyes  over  the  despatch  amid  a  hush  in  the  conversation. 

[360] 


THE      OLD      REGIMENT 

"  Gentlemen, "  he  commented  to  the  little  group 
gathered  about  him,  yet  without  glancing  up  from  the 
paper  in  his  hand,  "  Crook  was  defeated  over  on  the 
Rosebud  the  seventeenth,  and  forced  to  retire.  That 
will  account  for  the  unexpected  number  of  hostiles 
fronting  us  up  here,  Cook ;  but  the  greater  the  task, 
the  greater  the  glory.  Ah,  I  thought  as  much.  I  am 
advised  by  the  Department  to  keep  in  close  touch  with 
Terry  and  Gibbons,  and  to  hold  off  from  making  a 
direct  attack  until  infantry  can  arrive  in  support. 
Rather  late  in  the  day,  I  take  it,  when  we  are  already 
within  easy  rifle-shot.  I  see  nothing  in  these  orders 
to  interfere  with  our  present  plans,  nor  any  military 
necessity  for  playing  hide  and  seek  all  Summer  in 
these  hills.  That  looks  like  a  big  village  down  yon 
der,  but  I  have  led  the  dandy  Seventh  into  others 
just  as  large.'* 

He  stopped  speaking,  and  glanced  up  inquiringly 
into  the  face  of  the  silent  messenger,  apparently  mistak 
ing  him  for  one  of  his  own  men. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?" 

"Cheyenne,  sir." 

'What!  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  brought  it 
through  from  there  ?  " 

1  Silent  Murphy  carried  it  as  far  as  the  Powder 
River.  He  went  crazy  there,  and  I  was  compelled 
to  strap  him.  I  brought  it  the  rest  of  the  way." 

"  Where  is  Murphy  ?  " 

"  Back  with  the  pack-train,  sir.  I  got  him  through 
alive,  but  entirely  gone  in  the  head." 

"  Run  across  many  hostiles  in  that  region  ? " 

[361] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"They  were  thick  this  side  the  Rosebud;  all 
bucks,  and  travelling  north." 

"Sioux?" 

"  Mostly,  sir,  but  I  saw  one  band  wearing  Cheyenne 
war-bonnets." 

A  puzzled  look  slowly  crept  into  the  strong  face 
of  the  abrupt  questioner,  his  stern,  commanding  eyes 
studying  the  man  standing  motionless  before  him,  with 
freshly  awakened  interest.  The  gaze  of  the  other 
faltered,  then  came  back  courageously. 

"  I  recognize  you  now,"  Custer  said,  quietly. 
"Am  I  to  understand  you  are  again  in  the  service?" 

"  My  presence  here  is  purely  accidental,  General 
Custer.  The  opportunity  came  to  me  to  do  this 
work,  and  I  very  gladly  accepted  the  privilege." 

The  commander  hesitated,  scarcely  knowing  what 
he  might  be  justified  in  saying  to  this  man. 

"  It  was  a  brave  deed,  well  performed,"  he  said  at 
last,  with  soldierly  cordiality, "  although  I  can  hardly 
offer  you  a  fitting  reward." 

The  other  stood  bareheaded,  his  face  showing  pale 
under  its  sunburn,  his  hand  trembling  violently  where 
it  rested  against  his  horse's  mane. 

"  There  is  little  I  desire,"  he  replied,  slowly,  un 
able  to  altogether  disguise  the  quiver  in  his  voice, 
"and  that  is  to  be  permitted  to  ride  once  more  into 
action  in  the  ranks  of  the  Seventh." 

The  true-hearted,  impulsive,  manly  soldier  front 
ing  him  reddened  to  the  roots  of  his  fair  hair,  his 
proud  eyes  instantly  softening.  For  a  second  Hamp 
ton  even  imagined  he  would  extend  his  hand,  but 

[362] 


THE      OLD      REGIMENT 

the  other  paused  with  one  step  forward,  discipline 
proving  stronger  than  impulse. 

"  Spoken  like  a  true  soldier,"  he  exclaimed,  a  new 
warmth  in  his  voice.  "You  shall  have  your  wish. 
Take  position  in  Calhoun's  troop  yonder." 

Hampton  turned  quietly  away,  leading  his  horse, 
yet  had  scarcely  advanced  three  yards  before  Custer 
halted  him. 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  talk  with  you  again  after 
the  fight,"  he  said,  briefly,  as  though  half  doubting 
the  propriety  of  such  words. 

The  other  bowed,  his  face  instantly  brightening. 
"  I  thank  you  sincerely." 

The  perplexed  commander  stood  motionless, 
gazing  after  the  receding  figure,  his  face  grown  grave 
and  thoughtful.  Then  he  turned  to  the  wondering 
adjutant  beside  him. 

"You  never  knew  him,  did  you,  Cook?" 

"  I  think  not,  sir ;  who  is  he  ?  " 

"Captain  Nolan — you  have  heard  the  story." 

The  younger  officer  wheeled  about,  staring,  but 
the  despatch  bearer  had  already  become  indistinguish 
able  among  the  troopers. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  in  evident  surprise. 
"  He  has  a  manly  face." 

"  Ay,  and  he  was  as  fine  a  soldier  as  ever  fought 
under  the  flag,"  declared  Custer,  frankly.  "  Poor 
devil !  The  hardest  service  I  was  ever  called  upon 
to  perform  was  the  day  we  broke  him.  I  wonder 
if  Calhoun  will  recognize  the  face;  they  were  good 
friends  once." 

[363] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

He  stopped  speaking,  and  for  a  time  his  field- 
glasses  were  fastened  upon  a  small  section  of  Indian 
village  nestled  in  the  green  valley.  Its  full  extent 
was  concealed  by  the  hills,  yet  from  what  the  watchers 
saw  they  realized  that  this  would  prove  no  small 
encampment. 

"  I  doubt  if  many  warriors  are  there,"  he  com 
mented,  at  last.  "  They  may  have  gone  up  the  river 
to  intercept  Reno's  advance,  and  if  so,  this  should 
be  our  time  to  strike.  But  we  are  not  far  enough 
around,  and  this  ground  is  too  rough  for  cavalry. 
There  looks  to  be  considerable  level  land  out  yonder, 
and  that  coulee  ought  to  lead  us  into  it  without  peril 
of  observation  from  below.  Return  to  your  com 
mands,  gentlemen,  and  with  the  order  of  march  see 
personally  that  your  men  move  quietly.  We  must 
strike  quick  and  hard,  driving  the  wedge  home 
with  a  single  blow." 

His  inquiring  gaze  swept  thoughtfully  over  the 
expectant  faces  of  his  troop  commanders.  "  That  will 
be  all  at  present,  gentlemen ;  you  will  require  no  fur 
ther  instructions  until  we  deploy.  Captain  Calhoun, 
just  a  word,  please." 

The  officer  thus  directly  addressed,  a  handsome, 
stalwart  man  of  middle  age,  reined  in  his  mettlesome 
horse  and  waited. 

"  Captain,  the  messenger  who  has  just  brought 
us  despatches  from  Cheyenne  is  a  civilian,  but  has 
requested  permission  to  have  a  share  in  this  coming 
fight.  I  have  assigned  him  to  your  troop." 

Calhoun  bowed. 

[364] 


THE      OLD      REGIMENT 

"  I  thought  it  best  to  spare  you  any  possible  em 
barrassment  by  saying  that  the  man  is  not  entirely 
unknown  to  you." 

"  May  I  ask  his  name  ? " 

"  Robert  Nolan." 

The  strong,  lion-like  face  flushed  under  its  tan, 
then  quickly  lit  up  with  a  smile.  "  I  thank  you. 
Captain  Nolan  will  not  suffer  at  my  hands." 

He  rode  straight  toward  his  troop,  his  eyes 
searching  the  ranks  until  they  rested  upon  the 
averted  face  of  Hampton.  He  pressed  forward,  and 
leaned  from  the  saddle,  extending  a  gauntleted  hand. 
"  Nolan,  old  man,  welcome  back  to  the  Seventh  ! " 

For  an  instant  their  eyes  met,  those  of  the  officer 
filled  with  manly  sympathy,  the  other's  moistened 
and  dim,  his  face  like  marble.  Then  the  two  hands 
clasped  and  clung,  in  a  grip  more  eloquent  than 
words.  The  lips  of  the  disgraced  soldier  quivered, 
and  he  uttered  not  a  word.  It  was  Calhoun  who 
spoke. 

"  I  mean  it  all,  Nolan.  From  that  day  to  this  I 
have  believed  in  you, —  have  held  you  friend." 

For  a  moment  the  man  reeled;  then,  as  though 
inspired  by  a  new-born  hope,  he  sat  firmly  erect,  and 
lifted  his  hand  in  salute.  <c  Those  are  words  I  have 
longed  to  hear  spoken  for  fifteen  years.  They  are 
more  to  me  than  life.  May  God  help  me  to  be  worthy 
of  them.  Oh,  Calhoun,  Calhoun  !  " 

For  a  brief  space  the  two  remained  still  and  silent, 
their  faces  reflecting  repressed  feeling.  Then  the  voice 
of  command  sounded  out  in  front;  Calhoun  gently 

[365] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

withdrew  his  hand  from  the  other's  grasp,  and  with 
bowed  head  rode  slowly  to  the  front  of  his  troop. 

In  column  of  fours,  silent,  with  not  a  canteen  rat 
tling,  with  scabbards  thrust  under  their  stirrup  leathers, 
each  man  sitting  his  saddle  like  a  statue,  ready  carbine 
flung  forward  across  the  pommel,  those  sunburnt 
troopers  moved  steadily  down  the  broad  coulee. 
There  was  no  pomp,  no  sparkle  of  gay  uniforms.  No 
military  band  rode  forth  to  play  their  famous  battle 
tune  of  cc  Garryowen" ;  no  flags  waved  above  to  inspire 
them,  yet  never  before  or  since  to  a  field  of  strife  and 
death  rode  nobler  hearts  or  truer.  Troop  following 
troop,  their  faded,  patched  uniforms  brown  with  dust, 
their  campaign  hats  pulled  low  to  shade  them  from 
the  glare,  those  dauntless  cavalrymen  of  the  Seventh 
swept  across  the  low  intervening  ridge  toward  the  fate 
ful  plain  below.  The  troopers  riding  at  either  side  of 
Hampton,  wondering  still  at  their  captain's  peculiar 
words  and  action,  glanced  curiously  at  their  new 
comrade,  marvelling  at  his  tightly  pressed  lips,  his 
moistened  eyes.  Yet  in  all  the  glorious  column, 
no  heart  lighter  than  his,  or  happier,  pressed  forward 
to  meet  a  warrior's  death. 


[366] 


CHAPTER   IX 
THE    LAST    STAND 

HOWEVER  daring  the  pen,  it  cannot  but  falter 
when  attempting  to  picture  the  events  of  those 
hours  of  victorious  defeat.  Out  from  the  scene 
of  carnage  there  crept  forth  no  white  survivor  to 
recount  the  heroic  deeds  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry.  No 
voice  can  ever  repeat  the  story  in  its  fulness,  no  eye 
penetrate  into  the  heart  of  its  mystery.  Only  in 
motionless  lines  of  dead,  officers  and  men  lying  as  they 
fell  while  facing  the  foe ;  in  emptied  carbines  strewing 
the  prairie;  in  scattered,  mutilated  bodies;  in  that 
unbroken  ring  of  dauntless  souls  whose  lifeless  forms 
lay  clustered  about  the  figure  of  their  stricken  chief 
on  that  slight  eminence  marking  the  final  struggle — 
only  in  such  tokens  can  we  trace  the  broken  outlines 
of  the  historic  picture.  The  actors  in  the  great 
tragedy  have  passed  beyond  either  the  praise  or  the 
blame  of  earth.  With  moistened  eyes  and  swelling 
hearts,  we  vainly  strive  to  imagine  the  whole  scene. 
This,  at  least,  we  know :  no  bolder,  nobler  deed  of 
arms  was  ever  done. 

It  was  shortly  after  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
when  that  compact  column  of  cavalrymen  moved 
silently  forward  down  the  concealing  coulee  toward 
the  more  open  ground  beyond.  Custer's  plan  was 
surprise,  the  sudden  smiting  of  that  village  in  the 

[367] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

valley  from  the  rear  by  the  quick  charge  of  his 
horsemen.  From  man  to  man  the  whispered  pur 
pose  travelled  down  the  ranks,  the  eager  troopers 
greeting  the  welcome  message  with  kindling  eyes. 
It  was  the  old  way  of  the  Seventh,  and  they  knew  it 
well.  The  very  horses  seemed  to  feel  the  electric 
shock.  Worn  with  hard  marches,  bronzed  by  long 
weeks  of  exposure  on  alkali  plains,  they  advanced 
now  with  the  precision  of  men  on  parade,  under  the 
observant  eyes  of  the  officers.  Not  a  canteen  tinkled, 
not  a  sabre  rattled  within  its  scabbard,  as  at  a  swift, 
noiseless  walk  those  tried  warriors  of  the  Seventh 
pressed  forward  to  strike  once  more  their  old-time  foes. 

Above  them  a  few  stray,  fleecy  clouds  flecked  the 
blue  of  the  arching  sky,  serving  only  to  reveal  its 
depth  of  color.  On  every  side  extended  the  rough 
irregularity  of  a  region  neither  mountain  nor  plain, 
a  land  of  ridges  and  bluffs,  depressions  and  ravines. 
Over  all  rested  the  golden  sunlight  of  late  June;  and 
in  all  the  broad  expanse  there  was  no  sign  of  human 
presence. 

With  Custer  riding  at  the  head  of  the  column,  and 
only  a  little  to  the  rear  of  the  advance  scouts,  his 
adjutant  Cook,  together  with  a  volunteer  aide,  beside 
him,  the  five  depleted  troops  filed  resolutely  forward, 
dreaming  not  of  possible  defeat.  Suddenly  distant 
shots  were  heard  far  off  to  their  left  and  rear,  and 
deepening  into  a  rumble,  evidencing  a  warm  engage 
ment.  The  interested  troopers  lifted  their  heads, 
listening  intently,  while  eager  whispers  ran  from  man 
to  man  along  the  closed  files. 

[368] 


THE      LAST      STAND 

"  Reno  is  going  in,  boys ;  it  will  be  our  turn  next." 

cc  Close  up !  Quiet  there,  lads,  quiet,"  officer 
after  officer  passed  the  word  of  command. 

Yet  there  were  those  among  them  who  felt  a 
strange  dread  —  that  firing  sounded  so  far  up  the 
stream  from  where  Reno  should  have  been  by  that 
time.  Still  it  might  be  that  those  overhanging  bluffs 
would  muffle  and  deflect  the  reports.  Those  righting 
men  of  the  Seventh  rode  steadily  on,  unquestioningly 
pressing  forward  at  the  word  of  their  beloved  leader. 
All  about  them  hovered  death  in  dreadful  guise. 
None  among  them  saw  those  cruel,  spying  eyes 
watching  from  distant  ridges,  peering  at  them  from 
concealed  ravines ;  none  marked  the  rapidly  massing 
hordes,  hideous  in  war-paint,  crowded  into  near-by 
coulees  and  behind  protecting  hills. 

It  burst  upon  them  with  wild  yells.  The  gloomy 
ridges  blazed  into  their  startled  faces,  the  dark  ravines 
hurled  at  them  skurrying  horsemen,  while,  wherever 
their  eyes  turned,  they  beheld  savage  forms  leaping 
forth  from  hill  and  coulee,  gulch  and  rock  shadow. 
Horses  fell,  or  ran  about  neighing;  men  flung  up 
their  hands  and  died  in  that  first  awful  minute  of  con 
sternation,  and  the  little  column  seemed  to  shrivel 
away  as  if  consumed  by  the  flame  which  struck  it, 
front  and  flank  and  rear.  It  was  as  if  those  men  had 
ridden  into  the  mouth  of  hell.  God  only  knows  the 
horror  of  that  first  moment  of  shrinking  suspense  — 
the  screams  of  agony  from  wounded  men  and  horses, 
the  cries  of  fear,  the  thunder  of  charging  hoofs,  the 
deafening  roar  of  rifles. 

[369] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

Yet  it  was  for  scarcely  more  than  a  minute.  Men 
trained,  strong,  clear  of  brain,  were  in  those  stricken 
lines — men  who  had  seen  Indian  battle  before.  The 
recoil  came,  swift  as  had  been  the  surprise.  Voice 
after  voice  rang  out  in  old  familiar  orders,  steadying 
instantly  the  startled  nerves;  discipline  conquered 
disorder,  and  the  shattered  column  rolled  out,  as  if  by 
magic,  into  the  semblance  of  a  battle  line.  On  foot 
and  on  horseback,  the  troopers  of  the  Seventh  turned 
desperately  at  bay. 

It  was  magnificently  done.  Custer  and  his  troop- 
commanders  brought  their  sorely  smitten  men  into  a 
position  of  defence,  even  hurled  them  cheering  for 
ward  in  short,  swift  charges,  so  as  to  clear  the  front 
and  gain  room  in  which  to  deploy.  Out  of  confusion 
emerged  discipline,  confidence,  esprit  de  corps.  The 
savages  skurried  away  on  their  quirt-lashed  ponies,  be 
yond  range  of  those  flaming  carbines,  while  the  cavalry 
men,  pausing  from  vain  pursuit,  gathered  up  their 
wounded,  and  re-formed  their  disordered  ranks. 

"  Wait  till  Reno  rides  into  their  village,"  cried  en 
couraged  voices  through  parched  lips.  "Then  we'll 
give  them  hell ! " 

Safe  beyond  range  of  the  troopers'  light  carbines, 
the  Indians,  with  their  heavier  rifles,  kept  hurling  a 
constant  storm  of  lead,  hugging  the  gullies,  and  spread 
ing  out  until  there  was  no  rear  toward  which  the  T 
harassed  cavalrymen  could  turn  for  safety.  One  by 
one,  continually  under  a  heavy  fire,  the  scattered 
troops  were  formed  into  something  more  nearly  re 
sembling  a  battle  line  —  Calhoun  on  the  left,  then 

[370] 


THE      LAST      STAND 

Keogh,  Smith,  and  Yates,  with  Tom  Custer  holding 
the  extreme  right.  The  position  taken  was  far  from 
being  an  ideal  one,  yet  the  best  possible  under  the 
circumstances,  and  the  exhausted  men  flung  themselves 
down  behind  low  ridges,  seeking  protection  from  the 
Sioux  bullets,  those  assigned  to  the  right  enjoying  the 
advantage  of  a  somewhat  higher  elevation.  Thus 
they  waited  grimly  for  the  next  assault. 

Nor  was  it  long  delayed.  Scarcely  had  the  troop 
ers  recovered,  refilled  their  depleted  cartridge  belts 
from  those  of  their  dead  comrades,  when  the  onslaught 
came.  Lashing  their  ponies  into  mad  gallop,  now  sit 
ting  erect,  the  next  moment  lying  hidden  behind  the 
plunging  animals,  constantly  screaming  their  shrill 
war-cries,  their  guns  brandished  in  air,  they  swept 
onward,  seeking  to  crush  that  thin  line  in  one  terri 
ble  onset.  But  they  reckoned  wrong.  The  soldiers 
waited  their  coming.  The  short,  brown-barrelled  car 
bines  gleamed  at  the  level  in  the  sunlight,  and  then 
belched  forth  their  message  of  flame  into  the  very 
faces  of  those  reckless  horsemen.  It  was  not  in  flesh 
and  blood  to  bear  such  a  blow.  With  screams  of  rage, 
the  red  braves  swerved  to  left  and  right,  leaving  many 
a  dark,  war-bedecked  figure  lying  dead  behind  them, 
and  many  a  riderless  pony  skurrying  over  the  prairie. 
Yet  their  wild  ride  had  not  been  altogether  in  vain ; 
like  a  whirlwind  they  had  struck  against  Calhoun  on 
the  flank,  forcing  his  troopers  to  yield  sullen  ground, 
thus  contracting  the  little  semicircle  of  defenders, 
pressing  it  back  against  that  central  hill.  It  was  a 
step  nearer  the  end,  yet  those  who  fought  scarcely 

[37'] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

realized  its  significance.  Exultant  over  their  seem 
ingly  successful  repulse,  the  men  flung  themselves 
again  upon  the  earth,  their  cheers  ringing  out  above 
the  thud  of  retreating  hoofs. 

"  We  can  hold  them  here,  boys,  until  Reno 
comes,"  they  shouted  to  each  other. 

The  skulking  red  riflemen  crept  ever  closer  behind 
the  ridges,  driving  their  deadly  missiles  into  those 
ranks  exposed  in  the  open.  Twice  squads  dashed 
forth  to  dislodge  these  bands,  but  were  in  turn  driven 
back,  the  line  of  fire  continually  creeping  nearer, 
clouds  of  smoke  concealing  the  cautious  marksmen 
lying  prone  in  the  grass.  Custer  walked  up  and 
down  the  irregular  line,  cool,  apparently  unmoved, 
speaking  words  of  approval  to  officers  and  men.  To 
the  command  of  the  bugle  they  discharged  two  roar 
ing  volleys  from  their  carbines,  hopeful  that  the  com 
bined  sound  might  reach  the  ears  of  the  lagging  Reno. 
They  were  hopeful  yet,  although  one  troop  had  only 
a  sergeant  left  in  command,  and  the  dead  bodies  of 
their  comrades  strewed  the  plain. 

Twice  those  fierce  red  horsemen  tore  down  upon 
them,  forcing  the  thin,  struggling  line  back  by  sheer 
strength  of  overwhelming  numbers,  yet  no  madly 
galloping  warrior  succeeded  in  bursting  through. 
The  hot  brown  barrels  belched  forth  their  lightnings 
into  those  painted  faces,  and  the  swarms  of  savagery 
melted  away.  The  living  sheltered  themselves  be 
hind  the  bodies  of  their  dead,  fighting  now  in 
desperation,  their  horses  stampeded,  their  ammunition 
all  gone  excepting  the  few  cartridges  remaining  in  the 

[372] 


THE      LAST      STAND 

waist-belts.  From  lip  to  lip  passed  the  one  vital 
question:  "  In  God's  name,  where  is  Reno?  What 
has  become  of  the  rest  of  the  boys  ?  " 

It  was  four  o'clock.  For  two  long  hours  they  had 
been  engaged  in  ceaseless  struggle ;  and  now  barely  a 
hundred  men,  smoke-begrimed,  thirsty,  bleeding,  half 
their  carbines  empty,  they  still  formed  an  impenetrable 
ring  around  their  chief.  The  struggle  was  over,  and 
they  realized  the  fact.  When  that  wave  of  savage 
horsemen  swept  forth  again  it  would  be  to  ride  them 
down,  to  crush  them  under  their  horses'  pounding 
hoofs.  They  turned  their  loyal  eyes  toward  him  they 
loved  and  followed  for  the  last  time,  and  when  he 
uttered  one  final  word  of  undaunted  courage,  they 
cheered  him  faintly,  with  parched  and  fevered  lips. 

Like  a  whirlwind  those  red  demons  came,— howl 
ing  wolves  now  certain  of  their  prey.  From  rock  and 
hill,  ridge,  ravine,  and  coulee,  lashing  their  half-crazed 
ponies,  yelling  their  fierce  war-cries,  swinging  aloft  their 
rifles,  they  poured  resistlessly  forth,  sweeping  down  on 
that  doomed  remnant.  On  both  flanks  of  the  short 
slender  line  struck  Gall  and  Crazy  Horse,  while  like 
a  thunderbolt  Crow-King  and  Rain-in-the-Face  at 
tacked  the  centre.  These  three  storms  converged  at 
the  foot  of  the  little  hill,  crushing  the  little  band  of 
troopers.  With  ammunition  gone,  the  helpless  vic 
tims  could  meet  that  mighty  on-rushing  torrent  only 
with  clubbed  guns,  for  one  instant  of  desperate 
struggle.  Shoulder  to  shoulder,  in  ever-contracting 
circle,  officers  and  men  stood  shielding  their  com 
mander  to  the  last.  Foot  by  foot,  they  were  forced 

[373] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

back,  treading  on  their  wounded,  stumbling  over 
their  dead ;  they  were  choked  in  the  stifling  smoke, 
scorched  by  the  flaming  guns,  clutched  at  by  red 
hands,  beaten  down  by  horses'  hoofs.  Twenty  or 
thirty  made  a  despairing  dash,  in  a  vain  endeavor  to 
burst  through  the  red  enveloping  lines,  only  to  be 
tomahawked  or  shot ;  but  the  most  remained,  a  thin 
struggling  ring,  with  Custer  in  its  centre.  Then  came 
the  inevitable  end.  The  red  waves  surged  completely 
across  the  crest,  no  white  man  left  alive  upon  the 
field.  They  had  fought  a  good  fight;  they  had  kept 
the  faith. 

Two  days  later,  having  relieved  Reno  from  his 
unpleasant  predicament  in  the  valley,  Terry's  and 
Gibbons's  infantry  tramped  up  the  ravine,  and  emerged 
upon  the  stricken  field.  In  lines  of  motionless  dead 
they  read  the  fearful  story ;  and  there  they  found 
that  man  we  know.  Lying  upon  a  bed  of  emptied 
cartridge-shells,  his  body  riddled  with  shot  and  muti 
lated  with  knives,  his  clothing  torn  to  rags,  his  hands 
grasping  a  smashed  and  twisted  carbine,  his  lips 
smiling  even  in  death,  was  that  soldier  whom  the 
Seventh  had  disowned  and  cast  out,  but  who  had  come 
back  to  defend  its  chief  and  to  die  for  its  honor, — 
Robert  Hampton  Nolan. 


[374] 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  CURTAIN  FALLS 

BRONZED  by  months  of  scouting  on  those 
northern  plains,  a  graver,  older  look  upon  his 
face,  and  the  bars  of  a  captain  gracing  the 
shoulders  of  his  new  cavalry  jacket,  Donald  Brant 
trotted  down  the  stage  road  bordering  the  Bear 
Water,  his  heart  alternating  between  hope  and  dread. 
He  was  coming  back  as  he  had  promised  ;  yet,  ardently 
as  he  longed  to  look  into  the  eyes  of  his  beloved,  he 
shrank  from  the  duty  laid  upon  him  by  the  dead. 

The  familiar  yellow  house  at  the  cross-roads 
appeared  so  unattractive  as  to  suggest  the  thought 
that  Naida  must  have  been  inexpressibly  lonely  during 
those  months  of  waiting.  He  knocked  at  the  sun- 
warped  door.  Without  delay  it  was  flung  open,  and 
a  vision  of  flushed  face  and  snowy  drapery  confronted 
him. 

"Why,  Lieutenant  Brant!  I  was  never  more 
surprised  in  my  life.  Do,  pray,  come  right  in.  Yes, 
Naida  is  here,  and  I  will  have  her  sent  for  at  once. 
Oh,  Howard,  this  is  Lieutenant  Brant,  just  back  from 
his  awful  Indian  fighting.  How  very  nice  that  he 
should  happen  to  arrive  just  at  this  time,  is  n't  it?" 

The  young  officer,  as  yet  unable  to  discover  an 
opportunity  for  speech,  silently  accepted  Mr.  Wyn- 
koop's  extended  hand,  and  found  a  convenient  chair, 

[375] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

as  Miss  Spencer  hastened  from  the  room  to  announce 
his  arrival. 

"Why  cjust  at  this  time'?"  he  questioned. 

Mr.  Wynkoop  cleared  his  throat.  "Why  —  why, 
you  see,  we  are  to  be  married  this  evening  —  Miss 
Spencer  and  myself.  We  —  we  shall  be  so  delighted 
to  have  you  witness  the  ceremony.  It  is  to  take  place 
at  the  church,  and  my  people  insist  upon  making 
quite  an  affair  out  of  the  occasion  —  Phoebe  is  so 
popular,  you  know." 

The  lady  again  bustled  in,  her  eyes  glowing  with 
enthusiasm.  "  Why,  I  think  it  is  perfectly  delightful. 
Don't  you,  Howard  ?  Now  Lieutenant  Brant  and 
Naida  can  stand  up  with  us.  You  will,  won't  you, 
Lieutenant  ?  " 

"That  must  be  left  entirely  with  Miss  Naida  for 
decision,"  he  replied,  soberly.  "  However,  with  my 
memory  of  your  popularity  I  should  suppose  you 
would  have  no  lack  of  men  seeking  such  honor.  For 
instance,  one  of  your  old-time  friends,  Mr.  William 
McNeil." 

The  lady  laughed  noisily,  regardless  of  Mr. 
Wynkoop's  look  of  annoyance.  "Oh,  it  is  so  per 
fectly  ridiculous  !  And  did  n't  you  know  ?  have  n't 
you  heard  ? " 

"  Nothing,  I  assure  you." 

"Why  he — he  actually  married  the  Widow  Guffy. 
She  's  twice  his  age,  and  has  a  grown-up  son.  And  to 
think  that  I  supposed  he  was  so  nice!  He  did  write 
beautiful  verses.  Is  n't  it  a  perfect  shame  for  such 
a  man  to  throw  himself  away  like  that?  " 

[376] 


THE      CURTAIN      FALLS 

"It  would  seem  so.  But  there  was  another  whose 
name  I  recall — Jack  Moffat.  Why  not  have  him?" 

Miss  Spencer  glanced  uneasily  at  her  chosen  com 
panion,  her  cheeks  reddening.  But  that  gentleman 
remained  provokingly  silent,  and  she  was  compelled 
to  reply. 

"We  —  we  never  mention  him  any  more.  He 
was  a  very  bad  man." 

"Indeed?" 

"  Yes  ;  it  seems  he  had  a  wife  and  four  children  he 
had  run  away  from,  back  in  Iowa.  Perhaps  that  was 
why  his  eyes  always  looked  so  sad.  She  actually 
advertised  for  him  in  one  of  the  Omaha  papers.  It 
was  a  terrible  shock  to  all  of  us.  I  was  so  grateful  to 
Howard  that  he  succeeded  in  opening  my  eyes  in 
time." 

Mr.  Wynkoop  placed  his  hand  gently  upon  her 
shoulder.  "  Never  mind,  dearie,"  he  said,  cheerfully. 
"  The  West  was  all  so  strange  to  you,  and  it  seemed 
very  wonderful  at  first.  But  that  is  all  safely  over 
with  now,  and,  as  my  wife,  you  will  forget  the  un 
pleasant  memories." 

And  Miss  Spencer,  totally  oblivious  to  Brant's 
presence,  turned  impulsively  and  kissed  him. 

There  was  a  rustle  at  the  inner  door,  and  Naida 
stood  there.  Their  eyes  met,  and  the  color  mounted 
swiftly  to  the  girl's  checks.  Then  he  stepped  reso 
lutely  forward,  forgetful  of  all  other  presence,  and 
clasped  her  hand  in  both  his  own.  Neither  spoke 
a  word,  yet  each  understood  something  of  what  was 
in  the  heart  of  the  other. 

[377] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"Will  you  walk  outside  with  me?"  he  asked,  at  last. 
"  I  have  much  to  say  which  I  am  sure  you  would 
rather  hear  alone." 

She  bent  her  head,  and  with  a  brief  word  of 
explanation  to  the  others,  the  young  officer  conducted 
her  forth  into  the  bright  July  sunshine.  They  walked 
in  silence  side  by  side  along  the  bank  of  the  little 
stream.  Brant  glanced  furtively  toward  the  sweet, 
girlish  face.  There  was  a  pallor  on  her  countenance, 
a  shadow  in  her  eyes,  yet  she  walked  with  the  same 
easy  grace,  her  head  firmly  poised  above  her  white 
throat.  The  very  sadness  marking  her  features 
seemed  to  him  an  added  beauty. 

He  realized  where  they  were  going  now,  where 
memory  had  brought  them  without  conscious  volition. 
As  he  led  her  across  the  rivulet  she  glanced  up  into 
his  face  with  a  smile,  as  though  a  happy  recollection 
had  burst  upon  her.  Yet  not  a  word  was  spoken 
until  the  barrier  of  underbrush  had  been  completely 
penetrated,  and  they  stood  face  to  face  under  the 
trees.  Then  Brant  spoke. 

"  Naida,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  I  have  come  back,  as 
I  said  I  would,  and  surely  I  read  welcome  in  your  eyes?" 

"Yes." 

"And  I  have  come  to  say  that  there  is  no  longer 
any  shadow  of  the  dead  between  us." 

She  looked  up  quickly,  her  hands  clasped,  her 
cheeks  flushing.  "  Are  you  sure  ?  Perhaps  you 
misunderstand;  perhaps  you  mistake  my  meaning." 

"  I  know  it  all,"  he  answered,  soberly,  "  from  the 
lips  of  Hampton." 

[378] 


THE      CURTAIN      FALLS 

"You  have  seen  him?  Oh,  Lieutenant  Brant, 
please  tell  me  the  whole  truth.  I  have  missed  him 
so  much,  and  since  the  day  he  rode  away  to  Cheyenne 
not  one  word  to  explain  his  absence  has  come  back 
to  me.  You  cannot  understand  what  this  means, 
how  much  he  has  become  to  me  through  years  of 
kindness." 

"You  have  heard  nothing?" 
"  Not  a  word." 

Brant  drew  a  long,  deep  breath.  He  had  sup 
posed  she  knew  this.  At  last  he  said  gravely: 
u  Naida,  the  truth  will  prove  the  kindest  message,  I 
think.  He  died  in  that  unbroken  ring  of  defenders 
clustered  about  General  Custer  on  the  bluffs  of  the 
Little  Big  Horn." 

Her  slight  figure  trembled  so  violently  that  he 
held  her  close  within  his  arms. 

"There  was  a  smile  upon  his  face  when  we  fonnd 
him.  He  performed  his  full  duty,  Naida,  and  died 
as  became  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman." 

"  But  —  but,  this  cannot  be  !  I  saw  the  published 
list;  his  name  was  not  among  them." 

"The  man  who  fell  was  Robert  Nolan." 
Gently  he  drew  her  down  to  a  seat  upon  the  soft 
turf  of  the  bank.     She  looked  up  at  him  helplessly, 
her  mind   seemingly  dazed,  her  eyes   yet  filled  with 
doubt. 

"  Robert  Nolan  ?     My  father  ? " 
He  bent  over  toward  her,  pressing  his  lips  to  her 
hair  and  stroking  it  tenderly  with  his  hand. 

"Yes,    Naida,     darling;     it    was     truly    Robert 
[379] 


BOB     HAMPTON      OF     PLACER 

Hampton  Nolan  who  died  in  battle,  in  the  ranks  of 
his  old  regiment,  —  died  as  he  would  have  chosen 
to  die,  and  died,  thank  God !  completely  cleared  of 
every  stain  upon  his  honor.  Sit  up,  little  girl,  and 
listen  while  I  tell  you.  There  is  in  the  story  no 
word  which  does  not  reflect  nobility  upon  the  soldier's 
daughter." 

She  uplifted  her  white  face.  "  Tell  me,"  she  said, 
simply,  "  all  you  know." 

He  recounted  to  her  slowly,  carefully,  the  details 
of  that  desperate  journey  northward,  of  their 
providential  meeting  on  the  Little  Big  Horn, 
of  the  papers  left  in  his  charge,  of  Hampton's 
riding  forward  with  despatches,  and  of  his  death 
at  Custer's  side.  While  he  spoke,  the  girl  scarcely 
moved  ;  her  breath  came  in  sobs  and  her  hands 
clasped  his. 

"These  are  the  papers,  Naida.  I  opened  the 
envelope  as  directed,  and  found  deeds  to  certain 
properties,  including  the  mine  in  the  Black  Range ;  a 
will,  duly  signed  and  attested,  naming  you  as  his  sole 
heir,  together  with  a  carefully  prepared  letter,  ad 
dressed  to  you,  giving  a  full  account  of  the  crime  of 
which  he  was  convicted,  as  well  as  some  other  matters 
of  a  personal  nature.  That  letter  you  must  read 
alone  as  his  last  message,  but  the  truth  of  all  he  says 
has  since  been  proved." 

She  glanced  up  at  him  quickly.     cc  By  Murphy  ?  " 

"Yes,  by  Murphy,  who  is  now  lying  in  the 
hospital  at  Bethune,  slowly  recovering.  His  sworn 
deposition  has  been  forwarded  to  the  Department  at 


THE      CURTAIN      FALLS 

Washington,  and  will  undoubtedly  result  in  the  honor 
able  replacing  of  your  father's  name  on  the  Army 
List.  I  will  tell  you  briefly  the  man's  confession, 
together  with  the  few  additional  facts  necessary  to 
make  it  clear. 

"Your    father    and    mine    were    for    many    years 
friends  and  army  comrades.    They  saw  service  togeth 
er  during  the  great  war,  and  afterward  upon  the  plains 
in  Indian  campaigning.      Unfortunately  a  slight  mis 
understanding  arose  between  them.     This,  while  not 
serious  in  itself,  was  made  bitter  by  the  interference  of 
others,  and  the  unaccountable  jealousies  of  garrison 
life.     One  night  they  openly  quarrelled  when  heated 
by  wine,  and  exchanged  blows.     The  following  even 
ing,  your  father  chancing  to  be  officer  of  the  guard 
and  on  duty,  my  father,  whose  wife  had  then   been 
dead  a  year,  was  thoughtless  enough    to   accompany 
Mrs.  Nolan  home  at  a  late  hour  from  the  post  ball. 
It  was  merely  an  act  of  ordinary  courtesy  ;  but  gossips 
magnified  the  tale,  and  bore  it  to  Nolan.     Still  smart 
ing  from  the  former  quarrel,  in  which  I  fear  my  father 
was  in   the  wrong,  he  left  the  guard-house  with  the 
openly  avowed  intention  of  seeking  immediate  satis 
faction.      In    the  meanwhile    Slavin,  Murphy,  and  a 
trooper  named  Flynn,  who  had  been  to  town  without 
passes,  and  were  half-drunk,  stole  through  the  guard 
lines,  and  decided  to  make  a  midnight   raid   on  the 
colonel's    private  office.      Dodging  along  behind  the 
powder-house,  they    ran  suddenly    upon    my    father, 
then  on  the  way  to  his  own  quarters.     Whether  they 
were  recognized  by  him,  or  whether  drink  made  thern 


BOB      HAMPTON     OF     PLACER 

reckless  of  consequences,  is  unknown,  but  one  of  the 
men  instantly  fired.  Then  they  ran,  and  succeeded  in 
gaining  the  barracks  unsuspected." 

She  sat  as  if  fascinated  by  his  recital. 

"  Your  father  heard  the  shot,  and  sprang  toward 
the  sound,  only  to  fall  headlong  across  my  father's 
lifeless  body.  As  he  came  down  heavily,  his 
revolver  was  jarred  out  of  its  holster  and  dropped 
unnoticed  in  the  grass.  An  instant  later  the  guard 
came  running  up,  and  by  morning  Captain  Nolan  was 
under  arrest,  charged  with  murder.  The  circumstan 
tial  evidence  was  strong  —  his  quarrel  with  the  mur 
dered  man,  his  heated  language  a  few  moments 
previous,  the  revolver  lying  beside  the  body,  having 
two  chambers  discharged,  and  his  being  found  there 
alone  with  the  man  he  had  gone  forth  to  seek.  Slavin 
and  Flynn  both  strengthened  the  case  by  positive 
testimony.  As  a  result,  a  court  martial  dismissed  the 
prisoner  in  disgrace  from  the  army,  and  a  civil  court 
sentenced  him  to  ten  years'  imprisonment." 

"  And  my  mother  ?  "  The  question  was  a  trem 
bling  whisper  from  quivering  lips. 

"Your  mother,"  he  said,  regretfully,  "was  an 
exceedingly  proud  woman,  belonging  to  a  family  of 
social  prominence  in  the  East.  She  felt  deeply  the 
causeless  gossip  connecting  her  name  with  the  case,  as 
well  as  the  open  disgrace  of  her  husband's  conviction. 
She  refused  to  receive  her  former  friends,  and  even 
failed  in  loyalty  to  your  father  in  his  time  of  trial.  It 
is  impossible  now  to  fix  the  fault  clearly,  or  to  account 
for  her  actions.  Captain  Nolan  turned  over  all  his 


THE      CURTAIN      FALLS 

property  to  her,  and  the  moment  she  could  do  so,  she 
disappeared  from  the  fort,  taking  you  with  her. 
From  that  hour  none  of  her  old  acquaintances  could 
learn  anything  regarding  her  whereabouts.  She  did 
not  return  to  her  family  in  the  East,  nor  correspond 
with  any  one  in  the  army.  Probably,  utterly 
broken-hearted,  she  sought  seclusion  in  some  city. 
How  Gillis  obtained  possession  of  you  remains  a 
mystery." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  Everything." 

They  kept  silence  for  a  long  while,  the  slow 
tears  dropping  from  her  eyes,  her  hands  clasped  in  her 
lap.  His  heart,  heavy  with  sympathy,  would  not 
permit  him  to  break  in  upon  her  deep  sorrow  with 
words  of  comfort. 

"  Naida,"  he  whispered,  at  last,  "this  may  not  be 
the  time  for  me  to  speak  such  words,  but  you  are  all 
alone  now.  Will  you  go  back  to  Bethune  with  me — 
back  to  the  old  regiment  as  my  wife  ?  " 

A  moment  she  bowed  her  head  before  him  ;  then 
lifted  it  and  held  out  her  hands.  "  I  will." 

"  Say  to  me  again  what  you  once  said." 

"  Donald,  I  love  you." 

Gently  he  drew  her  down  to  him,  and  their  lips  met. 

The  red  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  fringe  of 
trees,  and  the  shadowed  nook  in  which  they  sat  was 
darkening  fast.  He  had  been  watching  her  in 
silence,  unable  to  escape  feeling  a  little  hurt  because 
of  her  grave  face,  and  those  tears  yet  clinging  to  her 
lashes. 

[383] 


BOB      HAMPTON      OF      PLACER 

"  I  wish  you  to  be  very  happy,  Naida  dear,"  he 
whispered,  drawing  her  head  tenderly  dowr  until  it 
found  rest  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Yes,  I  feel  you  do,  and  I  am ;  but  it  cannot 
come  all  at  once,  Donald,  for  I  have  lost  so  much — 
so  much.  I  —  1  hope  he  knows." 


THE   END 


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